Revel
by Lore55
Summary: Her whole life Victoria has been only one thing; pretty. She thought she was fine with that. She was wrong. Katakuri/OC
1. The Long Introduction

King Lysander and his wife, the late Queen Dolce, Dogaressa of Soldano, had three children before her untimely demise some decade and a half past.

There was Gemma, strong and cunning. Lucien, tenacious and unwavering. Then, there was Victoria. She was pretty.

In all truth Victoria was the eldest, but the fact of the matter was that there was nothing to be said of her besides the fact that she was pretty. Even court gossip was stagnant around her.

Gemma was a warrior born, fast and strong, a master of tactics and the human mind. It had been a decade since anyone had been able to beat her in a fight and history had been made when she was appointed General of Imperia's army at barely fifteen years old. Under her brilliance their army and navy had grown to unprecedented levels and surpassed all generations before them.

There was a small part of Victoria that blamed Gemma for this. And an even smaller part blamed their brother.

Lucien wasn't as good at fighting as Gemma. He was far from a prodigy. Things didn't come easy to her little brother, who had to struggle to perfect what came to easily to the two girls. Still, he worked harder than any of them, until he had earned their father's respect, and the adoration of their people. He was not the youngest Legislature Paramount ever, but he had begun a legal reform that showed promise. The people adored him and his fair minded ways.

Victoria di Imperia was not anything so impressive as her younger siblings. She was, simply, pretty.

The daughter of a former Dogaressa of Soldano and the King of Imperia she had been expected to be brilliant. To be a leader for their people to follow in the era that lay ahead, where pirates reigned across the sea and the land was at constant change.

She was none of those things.

Victoria had never excelled at anything in this life. Her tutors praised her for _trying_ , her suitors patted her hand and complimented her hair.

That was fine with her.

Long before she was a princess Victoria had had her time as a genius, in a lifetime she only remembered vaguely after so long. What she did recall of being brilliant, the predistal that that had placed her upon, _well_. She had no wish to return there.

Though, maybe if she had shown off more she wouldn't have been where she was. Perhaps, if she had showed that she had worth beyond being a simple bargaining chip, she would not have been here.

That is to say, in a palanquin bound for a place she really, really didn't want to be going.

A palanquin bound for her wedding.

It was hot in the litter, sunlight bearing down on the thrio that sat inside. Victory withheld her complaints, it would do no good. She couldn't even fan her face, or she might misplace her hair or the garland of crystal flowers that lay within the six curls that crowned her, leading back to the carefully coiled waterfall at the back of her head.

Traditionally she would have picked a garland of actual flowers from her parents garden the morning of her wedding for this, made up of myrtle, marjoram, and rosemary. The week she had spent on a boat before arriving in the city that morning made such a thing impossible. Instead she had worked with a jeweler and selected the gem and gold flowers that now graced her.

The bouquet was marginally less important, so local flora was acceptable for that.

At the moment, it lay in Aelia's lap, where she sat to Victoria's left, one of the two handmaidens that had accompanied her in it. The other four rode outside the palanquin dressed in leather soldiers armor.

"All will be well, princess," Madelle promised. All of the handmaidens were nearly identical to Tori. Madelle in particular was a little less beautiful now-a-days, but when she had been brought into royal service twenty years ago it had been perfect. Her glossy hair was blue-black in the way the sea was at night, her face was porcelain and any blemishes were skillfully hidden under face paint. As they grew older the differences, while still small, became more apparent. Where Madelle's cheeks remained wide and fell into a narrow jaw Tori had kept her heart shaped face, with the puppy fat falling off of high cheekbones.

With the right contouring they were still identical.

If she had been attending a wedding with anyone less dangerous it would have Madelle wearing the white veil that day, but they couldn't afford to risk getting on the bad side of these people. So there Tori sat, her hands clasped in her lap.

She knew she wasn't supposed to move much, but she couldn't help pulling the curtain back to catch a glimpse of the building they were marching into. Her breath was stolen immediately. The New World was a weird place, but nothing would have prepared her for the sight of the Whole Cake Chateau.

It was a massive creation shaped like a four tiered cake, with shingles that looked like frosting and trees that gave it the look of birthday candles. It towered above her, higher than any building in the Novara archipelago. It dwarfed everything around it, from trees to the city that they had passed through on their way from the docks. A magnificent building that showed very easily who resided within in.

They passed through the from door, which was easily big enough for the entire precession to walk through. Inanimate objects with very animated faces watched them pass, singing about their purposes in life in a rather demented fashion that set Tori's brows into a furrow. Madelle cleared her throat and Tori let the curtain fall into place once more. She had to stifle her nervous giggling with a delicate clearing of her throat.

She felt guilty when they began to ascend to the stairs, all the way up to the very highest floor. A garden on the roof, where the wedding would be held. The bearers of her palanquin were strong men, who were supposedly honored to carry their princess up to meet her groom. That didn't mean that carrying three full grown women up nine flights of stairs was easy. If it wasn't so improper she would have insisted on exiting the litter and walking herself, getting some of her nervous energy out and giving the poor men a break.

However, her father was leading the train of Imperian royalty, and he would not have it. He gave his daughter's many liberties, but this was not a time where he could afford to differ from tradition.

None of them, for their lives or for the lives of their people, could afford to slip up in this dangerous place.

At last they crested the final step to a rooftop garden. She could hear the hard breathing of the litter bearers and the horses that had fit so easily within the enormous building. It was a miracle that some nervous tick didn't pop up. Her lips were only just painted today, but still she did not bite them. Her hands were soft with lotions and her nails meticulously cleaned and tipped. She minded herself not to pick at them.

Her head was held high and her gaze was fixed forwards as the litter came to a stop inside the courtyard. When the door opened she glided down the steps placed in front of her with a grace instilled in her from the day she was born into this world. Madelle and Aelia followed after in soft pastel yellow dresses that wrapped around their throats before falling formlessly to the ground.

She did her best to keep her face smooth, even if it was hidden mostly behind the veil.

Faces followed her as she walked slowly towards the grand doors. It was something that Tori was very familiar with.

In truth, she was glad for her beauty. That was all people saw when they looked at her. They saw she was beautiful and that was all. Not even her own siblings had ever delved deeper. It gave her a type of freedom, liberated from the scrutiny her genius had earned her when she had been Victoria Iverson. Everyone had been watching her then, to see what Ivy League college she went to, to see what world changing career she chose.

This was better.

Sometimes it was lonelier, she would admit. Never had it been more evident than when she was walking down the aisle in front her new _family_.

With all eyes on her, and Madelle falling further back as they neared the priest, Tori was filled with a sense of isolation.

It was a credit to her father's rigorous lessons in geniality and manners that she didn't trip over her long skirt when she saw who was standing at the head of the aisle. A second son. That was… not normal. She had been expecting the thirtieth, twentieth maybe. The second was preposterous.

What was so important about her kingdom that she was to marry Charlotte Katakuri?

Well. Her life just got more interesting.

Tori turned a veiled smile up at him.

From the depictions in the manga she'd read all those years ago she had expected him to look like live action Scrappy Doo. What she got instead was a man. An enormous one, true, but a man nonetheless.

This did bring to mind a few… issues, they would have as man and wife. Standing in front of him at the alter she was well aware that she only came up to his mid drift, and that was in heels. Perhaps his devil fruit could shrink him. Or, given the fact that Gol D Roger was only four years dead and she and her husband were both in the middle of their twenties, maybe she would find that gum gum fruit for herself.

Tori listened with half an ear for what the bishop was saying. _In sickness and in health. Until death do you part?_

"I do," she vowed.

She managed not to tense when the massive man before her lifted the long veil from her. A few of the people gathered gasped at her face.

She had heard some more romantic people refer to her as 'enchanting', 'peerless' and 'artlessly' beautiful. So she turned her most pleasant smile up at her new husband to prove them right. His eyes widened a faction before any thoughts faded from him.

"You may kiss the bride," the Bishop declared. Katakuri leveled him with a narrow eyed refusal. Tori had almost forgotten.

He was sensitive about his mouth.

Well, she could live with that.

Victoria tugged his hand towards her, drawing his dark eyes back to his new wife. He let her lay her lips on the back of his hand.

"There," she smiled softly at him. "Will that suffice?"

The bishop startled. "W-well. The man is meant to kiss the bride and-"

"Fine," Katakuri lowered himself. Tori was truly surprised. He wouldn't pull his scarf away just like that, right?

Right. He pulled her hand up and, maneuvering her with a grip tight enough to warn her not to do anything foolish, guided her fingers behind the cloth. She felt the barest imprint of a mouth before her hand was pushed away and he stood up. She saw nothing of his mouth. No one did.

As one they turned the challenge to the bishop, daring him to contradict them.

He was sweating profusely when he nodded quickly.

"I now pronounce you man and wife!"

Cheers erupted around them. Someone called for the wedding cake. While they ran off Victoria turned away from her husband to watch the line that was made up of Madelle, Aelia, her sister Gemma, a few ladies in waiting and a handful of courtisans that had come with her. After a bit of prompting from Civilla, her cousin, the Charlotte girls joined the line as well, looking confused.

Perhaps it was a tradition native only to her island, as opposed to the whole world?

Whatever the case Victoria walked to each of them in turn, kissed a flower from her bouquet of stephanotis, and carefully wrapped the vine around the wrist of each unmarried woman she passed.

"What are these for?" a rather unfortunate looking girl asked. A scar cut across her face, between her eyes and down the left. She was… Brulee. That was it. It had been many years since Victoria had seen One Piece. It was one of the few things she really tried to remember from her old self, seeing as how relevant it would be in a couple of decades.

"For a happy marriage," she explained. "It's a tradition."

"A happy marriage… You don't need to give one to me," Brulee told her. Victoria came so close to tilting her head. The only thing that stopped her was a dozen of diamond drops in her carefully piled hair.

"Ah, if you don't want to get married they can also instill the desire to travel. Good for pirates, right?"

"Don't you see this scar on my face? It's horrible. I wouldn't get married happily," she said all of this with a smile that was frankly unnerving.

"Well," Victoria considered her words. "Just don't marry a shallow person. Love has a way of dismissing imperfections. So keep the flower, please? For luck."

"What would you know about imperfections?" one of the other girls challenged. Tori hadn't been planning on having a conversation like this. This was way too deep for a first meeting.

So, she smiled at them in a way that made glitter look dull.

"Me? Nothing at all."

She moved on, to the smallest girls, two little pink haired twins that got the very last of her bouquet. At the same time the cake was rolled in, bigger than anything that Tori had ever seen. Her Miss Congeniality mask slipped with her shock at the sight.

Brulee pushed her, not roughly, towards the table where Big Mom sat with her sons.

Tori lifted her skirts quickly to join her husband. Her father sat on her other side, looking the king he was in his fine suit and his golden crown. A small gold tiara sat in her own hair, with an identical stone as the one set in her fathers. A ruby.

Looking at the spread of deserts Tori found herself with a dilemma.

She was allergic to gluten. She couldn't eat anything in front of her.

Victoria thinned her lips to keep from laughing aloud. She was allergic to gluten, married to the minister of flour, and her favorite dessert was Mochi.

That was a problem that was easy enough to remedy. Married women in Imperia did not eat before their husbands, and given the fact that Katakuri wasn't going to eat period in front of all of these people she was at no risk of having to eat anything in front of her.

For the rest of her wedding Tori watched other people eat, laugh and dance while she sat next to her stoic husband, struggling not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

What an interesting life this was!

* * *

When she came to understand who her husband was, she was struck with so many questions it was enough to make her head spin right off her shoulders, if she wasn't careful. So blindingly fast did they fly through her brain that she was barely aware that she had been escorted the whole way to the bridechamber.

Katakuri, who was not soft spoken but rather rarely spoke at all, brought her the whole way without touching her once. He hadn't made any contact since they had been wed, not through the reception and not on the brief trip between islands that took them to Komugi.

She had barely looked at the bizarre landscape they passed when they arrived, that was how preoccupied she was. Even the giant donut with a face wasn't enough to draw her from her contemplations.

She didn't know if she was nervous or not when it came to the idea of consummation. She wasn't even sure if it would happen. If it did, would Katakuri keep his scarf up the entire time? Or perhaps he would insist that they turn out the lights? He might even blindfold her.

Now _there_ was a thought.

Tori offered him a nod of thanks for his graciousness and stepped inside. The room was massive, as one might expect, though sparsely furnished. Her wardrobe would fit easily in the space of the of his hulking armoire. From here she could see the door to the bathroom open, and the tub inside. _That_ was something she would enjoy.

The one thing that was truly off about the room was utter lack of anything personal. It was spartan perfection and spotless. Not ever a stray spiked boot.

She looked up at her husband, mouth poised with a question.

"This will be your room," he said without promptly. "You are the lady of this house, you will be treated as such. If you are not, inform me. Goodnight."

He was gone before Tori could gather her words.

For a long moment she stared at the closed door. Even though she knew he was self conscious and that there was a chance that they would do nothing, actually doing nothing on her wedding day was more than surreal. She had been preparing herself for months to settle for whomever she was coupled with and let her new husband do as he pleased that night.

To be doing nothing…

Tori looked around the room, pulling at drawers and testing the bed. It was evident that it was meant to be shared between her and Katakuri, seeing as everything there was twice the size of any furniture she would use.

Yet, her husband had left her to her own devices, given her her own room and disappeared into the massive mansion she was now to call home.

All because he was shy.

Tori couldn't help it. She started giggling uncontrollably.

That was- that was cute!

Her strong pirate husband, feared son of an emperor, future holder of a billion beri bounty, was cute!


	2. Unnecessary Description

Madelle came to her the next morning with a box of medicines, a cappuccino and and a plate of sliced fruit with a sugary glaze.

Most of her people ate a pastry for breakfast, or bread in milk with cinnamon. This world wasn't exactly full of gluten free flour. White rice flour was anything but native to Imperia and Soldano, so she had gone most of her life with very little pastries at all. Royal or not, shipping routes in the New World were tedious and unreliable.

Tori took one look at the creams in the box and the pill bottle settled along side bandages and antiseptics and shook her head.

"I won't be needing any of those," she said.

Madelle looked at her, surprised. With only Madelle wearing make up in the morning their differences were even more pronounced. Tori had always been careful, even when she was learning her lackluster fighting skills, not to allow a scar to befall her pretty face. Any scars she might have, must be reflected upon Madelle.

"He was gentle with you, then?" she ventured, relief crossing her face. The Big Mom Pirates were not known for tolerance or kindness. It was only then that Tori realized that Madelle had feared so much for her safety.

Tori's smile grew soft and she grasped Madelle's fingers tightly within her own.

"Nothing happened, Mad. Nothing at all."

"Nothing!" Madelle's mouth fell open. "He didn't try to..."

"No," Tori shook her head, her inky hair falling around her elbows. "He didn't. He told me I was Lady of the house, and I should expect to be treated as such. Then he left."

"Then you are not truly a bride," Madelle's voice betrayed a dawning horror. And why shouldn't it? Until Katakuri had taken her maidenhood she was, by laws of her own people, unmarried and their countries would not be united until that fact was no longer true. However,

"By the laws of Totto Land, and how Big Mom considers things we are wed. In this arrangement, all that matters is what _she_ thinks," Tori said firmly. She squeezed Madelle's hand, looking her right in her deep blue eyes. "The customs of Imperia are irrelevant, we must accept that and adapt to what is expected of us here. Do you understand, Madelle?"

Madelle was the color of ash even as she nodded. The full weight of their responsibility to their people was beginning to weigh on her shoulders.

Tori kissed her cheek and finally released her handmaid.

"Fortify yourself, dear heart. All will be well."

"You say that when you have been married off to a demon on a battlefield and the son of - of _her_ ," Madelle's eyes flashed dangerously. "You have no idea what the future holds, whether he will kill you on a whim or make a true bride of you tonight."

"I have known that this would happen since the day I understood what it was to be Crown Princess," Tori said firmly. "My life is not my own, it never has been. Come what may I will endure, and our people will prosper with this alliance. Even if we are husband and wife in name only, I can be satisfied with that."

Tori had never been a fool. She had never had notions that she would marry for love. She had, for most of her life, expected to marry some dull, prissy nobleman who like how her face looked and balked the second she acted like she had authority. She had expected her marriage to be boring.

Tori hadn't been lying about being able to satisfy herself with this marriage. In fact, she expected she would have quite a bit of fun.

So she smiled at Madelle and finished her coffee before moving on to her fruit.

"Did we bring my red dress?" she asked mildly, "The one with the dove on hip."

"It is here," Madelle confirmed. She set aside the medicines she had brought with her and vanished. A train with the majority of her belongings would be along within the day, until then they were make do with what they had brought along. Her wedding gown and some of her most vain dresses and jewels.

In all truth, Tori wasn't nearly so caught up in her appearance as it would look, but when ones only talent was in god given beauty what else was she to do? Skulk around in sweats under a blanket cape?

… actually, that held some appeal.

Tori turned back to the door when Madelle came in with a trunk filled with her finest gowns and make ups. She shed her sleeping dress and stepped into the ornate thing that Tori had brought her. With her chin held up and her hair held back Madelle clasped the gold decaled collar of the dress around her throat. The material folded in careful waves to be gathered at her right hip, where they pressed into a dove shaped with two dozen yellow zircon stones.

The hem fell down to her feet, long enough that they were still obscured even in the white pumps that Madelle also produced.

After that she attacked her mistresses hair without mercy, forcefully twisting it into an elegant knot on the right side of her head. A gold hair pin dropped a string of zircon halfway to her shoulder. On the other side of the knot was perched her crown, ruby shining proudly.

On each of her upper arms Madelle slid a heavy gold band, also detailed with rubies, each one three fingers thick. Her left wrist matched in a moment, and her right hand found itself with a thin gold chain looped around her middle finger and a honeycomb of rubies attached to those same chains took up the back of her hand and looped around her wrist.

Tori parted her mouth so that Madelle could place the red-rose patterned lips on top of her own.

When she strode into the bathroom and looked at the mirror she had the sudden desire to shed everything go get her blanket cape.

Instead she turned her gaze to Madelle and smiled, small so the false lips didn't strain or split.

"Thank you," she said. Gemma didn't dress like this, she was a general and marched around in fatigues, carrying a sword. Her only make up was camouflage and the last time she had worn any vanity had been at their sainted mothers funeral. Gemma was also unfortunately masculine in her face, and on more than one occasion had been called 'prince' instead of 'princess'.

Tori wondered sometimes if Gemma knew that she was allowed to be feminine and fatal, a devastating damsel, or if she thought she had to chose.

"Shall we tour the manor?" Madelle suggested. Tori nodded, agreeing without hesitation.

Perhaps she would see this cute husband of hers.

* * *

The manor was quite a sight. Like everything else in this country, it was themed with sweets. Everywhere she looked she saw a pastry or a desert that she hadn't eaten two and half decades. Donuts shaped windows, what looked like gingerbread but was actually some bizarre wood made up the walls themselves and the shingles acted like one big slab of frosting.

Tori felt like she had walked right into a more dangerous version of Hansel and Gretel. One where the witch was now her mother-by-law.

They passed what had to be the tenth tree shaped like a lollipop before Madelle finally sniffed in disdain at all that was around them.

Aelia had taken up a position with the resident quartermaster and hadn't been seen all morning. Two of her other handmaidens, Varinia and Daria, were off inspecting the troops native to Komugi. The last pair were getting to know the kitchen staff, for Tori's own good and to get in on some gossip.

They were smart, they were well trained and they knew exactly what they were doing.

This chateau was very different from her father's palace. Where the walls of her childhood were covered in intricate frescos and fascinating molding of gold on every door and archway, this place was sparse of any decoration. A few painting hung in wooden frames that were far too small for the towering walls, which had been washes white all over. They passed one room that was painted a pale green with darker molding. Besides that it was spartan and clean.

More than a home it made Tori think of the barracks that her sister kept in Imperia's capital. Tori, like all proper young ladies, avoided it when she could. Unlike most proper young ladies she had spent years worth of sundays, wednesdays and fridays in the yard, working to fight alongside the men. It was something that her sainted mother had insisted upon, her daughters knowing how to protect themselves. Lysander agreed, however reluctantly, and the result was Gemma.

Tori knew that once she returned to her island, in three weeks time, she would be pounded soundly into the ground by Gemma. That was the curse laid upon her.

'Curse' was a bit of an exaggeration. It was meant to be a blessing.

For a thousand years, or at least since the end of the Void Century, Imperia had possessed a woman that they called simply, Enchantress. When one died her apprentices name was struck from the Hall of Records, and she was retreated into the country. Her face was never shown as the Enchantress, and her voice never heard as anyone else.

As the holder of the Law Law fruit, anything she spoke would become an unchangeable fact. Always, she was present for christenings, to bless a child with a useful skill.

Tori did not remember her own christening, but she remembered Gemma and Lucien's quite well.

She could recall the way the woman dressed all in red had leaned over Gemma's tiny basenet. Her face was covered by a pure white mask that curved down the sides so her mouth was still visible. When she spoke the words tumbled from her lips and lay across her new sisters soft pink skin.

" _She will be always able."_

And later, those same lips tumbled unto Lucien's dark mass of hair more words.

" _He will be affable."_

Strange. Traditionally, princes were made 'strong' or 'smart' or 'powerful'. Tori suspected that the Enchantress that had made her 'beautiful' was different from the one that now roamed the country and called little girls 'clever', 'astute', 'unwavering' and little boys 'gentle' 'amiable' And 'compassionate'. A far cry from her father, who was 'strong'.

The world was changing. Tori liked the way it was going.

As someone who was always beautiful her skin never wrinkled with laugh lines, never burn and it was difficult to scar. Calluses never formed. Every time she worked her hands too much they blistered, bled, and went right back to being perfectly soft as soon as the skin healed.

She was not a fan.

It did mean that her skin was perpetually soft, and her fingers always sensitive to the textures of the world in a way that other peoples were not.

When she ran her fingers along a panelled wall she could tell that it was made of a wood she had never before encountered. Idly she wondered what it was made of.

Since there was nothing else to do until Lapa collected the records for the estates management she and Madelle spent the morning touring her new home away from home. It wasn't so bad.

The sun was still the same, the wind still tried to lift her hair and the plants, despite some being sentient, smelled the way all did. Tori missed her family, but she would be okay until she could see them again.

She was also curious. Ever since she had been born she had been filled with an endless thirst for knowledge. She wanted to understand the world around her. She wanted to know what made the Grand Line so strange, she wanted to know what caused the Calm Belt, she wanted to know how Devil Fruit worked. She wanted to know everything.

She wished, sometimes, that she had been born on Ohara instead of Imperia, that she had been a scholar instead of princess. She wanted to see their library and read their books and _learn_.

She could have made the request to go there to her father, before her wedding. He would not have denied her, but every time she almost worked up the courage for it she would remember a lifetime ago. The stress, the anxiety, the understanding that even the smallest failure from her was catastrophic. She could still remember with horrible clarity crying in the bathroom of her college the first time she got a B +. The sinking, gut wrenching knowledge that she had to be perfection or she would be nothing.

Without fail she backed away from her desires, choked by fears, and so she remained pretty. She didn't try for her tutors. She did poorly because it was so easy, and because it was so boring to sit in a room and learn what she had already known.

It was easier.

Now, faced with furniture that talked and a whole new island, new flowers and new people and new cultures, she felt that same curiosity rise inside of her again.

"Mad," she spoke abruptly, looking to the sky. Soft white clouds puffed by above them, showing no sign of rain, merely soft white joy.

"Yes?" Madelle stepped minutely closer. In public, she stayed exactly three paces away, as was proper.

"... I am glad you are with me," she said, instead of the true words that were on the tip of her tongue. Madelle looked at her and in her eyes Tori could see something. Madella knew she was hiding something. The other woman thinned her lips, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly but she nodded once and fell back into her place.

They walked on.

The Komugi chateau was a sprawling structure. She could see where, once, it had been a place of finery, but now it was patrolled by lock step soldier and chefs that rushed to a frow with their carts of ingredients and food stuffs. Without fail, whoever walked by bowed sharply to her, their eyes down and heads low.

Tori walked on past them. She would not hold people up with her presence when she could help it.

They explored the sprawling dining room, large enough to fit her husband and his entire family at least. She and Madelle found a parlor where it was evident that people had moved all the luxuries that were in the way in the rest of the chateau and left them there. Paintings of a noble family long gone gathered dust stacked in the corner, intricate arm chairs sat on top of heavy wooden desks. Draped across a solid gold bed frame in the corner was a pile of dressed that had once been beautiful but now were moth bitten and rotting slowly.

"Poor fools," said Madelle. "They should have married to Big Mom, not resisted her consumption.

Tori merely nodded, saddened by the sight.

Aelia appeared at their side then. The youngest of her handmaidens Aelia was also as close to being identical to Tori as a person could get, but the mischievous spark in her eyes often threatened to give her away. That day she and Madelle, and the other handmaidens no doubt, were dressed in simple blue pants and white shirts that flowed at the sleeves. The collar dipped into a 'v' but was joined at the top with a sort of choker.

"Your Husband, Minister Katakuri of Komugi, Crown Prince of Imperia and Soldano, will not be dining with you today, or for the foreseeable future," she announced. Tori wasn't even a little bit surprised. Her mouth twitched.

"Has he no time for his poor wife? How very sad," she mourned, hanging her head a few degrees. They held the formality for only a moment longer before both women broke into soft laughter.

"I'm told," Aelia said, "That he trains while he eats and no one is allowed to see him while he does that."

"Don't go speculating over the truth," Madelle warned, her eyes flashing again. Madelle had, for Tori's sake, eaten the Truth Truth fruit. She could always tell when a lie was told or even a half truth. Even when someone didn't know that they were lying, she would know. It was ever so useful in a court, and here, in 'enemy territory' as Madelle considered it, it was an invaluable skill to know who was and was no ones ally.

"I won't, I won't," Aelia rolled her eyes. She took a step closer to Tori, so they were two paces away instead of three. "I also heard…"

And so began the talk. Tori listened with one ear to Aelia's report of what she and the other girls had learned. Who on the staff was trustworthy, who was a gossip, who was dating when they were weren't supposed to be. She was told names, positions, ages and relation all under the guise of Aelia being a gossiping little chick, too young yet to be considered a hen.

They walked like that for hours, Tori three steps ahead of the bright eyed Aelia and the solemn Madelle. They toured just about every room in the chateau before finally leaving the indoors once more and stepping outside, into the courtyard where drills were being run.

She watch out of the corner of her eye as the men went at each other with swords or knives, hacking repeatedly. The same moves, over and over, being built into the very fiber of their beings. Tori carefully withheld a grimace at the idea of holding a sword.

She didn't have the taste for battle that Gemma had. Her hands were too soft, her face too pretty and her handmaid's were too important. She looked over the yard, seeing the one in front of her and noting how different it was from the one Gemma ran. Their commander, a man named Trent Burgerion who Tori had been introduced to earlier, barked orders. He was not very commanding, but he was loud.

"Where do you think my dear husband has run off to?" she asked Aelia mildly. Everything about her was mild and soft.

"I'm not sure," she confessed. "He's very good at disappearing when he wants to. Everyone says so."

Tori closed her eyes for a few steps to hide the gleam that threatened to enter them at the idea of playing a game of cat and mouse with her new husband, where the cat was half the size of the mouth. Or, perhaps cat and Eel was more accurate?

She would never say that aloud. Katakuri was sensitive about his mouth.

Tori almost smiled.

She hoped she would see him before the day was done, since she would not see him at night.

* * *

In the end, she did not see him that day, nor the day after that nor any of the days that followed. Her first week of marriage and she had seen her husband only for the one ceremony. They were at the time where she, as the new Lady of Komugi, was meant to be introduced to the people she would serve and guide.

In the meantime, Tori busied herself with adjusting. They put her things away in her room, she got more accustomed to chateau and learned her way around. She and her handmaid's met every single person working there, at one point or another, and when they were not doing those things they retired to a parlor to talk and work. Needles worked through cloth, papers turned in books, herbs were sealed in packets and knives were sharpened to wicked points.

At last, on the seventh day, she ambushed him.

That is so say, she walked a little faster and asked about until someone finally pointed her to a hallway. She had just missed him.

She managed to turn the corner before he could vanish again, her heels clicking against the tiled floor and giving her away. As if he didn't already know she was there. The long strand of hair floated past her shoulder, the only curled lock that wasn't pinned close to her head by small flower pins decorated with rubies and sapphires. The sea and fire lit her hair in the light that filtered in through the windows.

He saw her coming and, to the surprise of no one, picked up his pace and absconded. He was tall, towering easily over everyone who was not his mother. Tori's people were tall too, somewhere between eight and ten feet on average, with Tori on the lower end. Much taller than the average human, but much smaller than the Charlotte's eldest children.

She wasn't sure why. Some kind of branch of evolution did it. She half suspected the air on her home was richer with oxygen, but she had no trouble breathing on Komugi, so that line was out. Another idea was that they weren't humans after all, but a sort of pygmy giant that lived on the archipelago away from their relatives. Without genetics testing, she couldn't be sure.

Unfortunately for her shy husband, Tori was not so easily deterred. She put a hand out to stop her handmaidens from following her as well. Madelle made a face at her but came to a halt, and Varinia didn't seem to care. Varinia was the least expressive of all of them, which did make it harder when it was her turn to be Victoria, but that was a concern for another day.

Right then, Tori picked up her pace past what was decent for her dress and managed to catch up to Katakuri at last. She was very certain it was only because his pride wouldn't let him actually run away from his wife.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and she was struck, momentarily, by the sharp contrast in him as he was now and how he was at the altar. There he had been dressed in some degree of finery and held himself with the air of stubborn importance and power. Here the power rolled off of him in palpable waves. He was dressed plainly, at least compared to the fine and fancy princess. His plain leather vest was set over a loose red shirt and his long black pants tucked into short boots. There were no spikes anywhere to be seen. His scarf was smooth and flashed with the light, a sort of red.

She wondered if he had his tattoos yet. She certainly hoped so.

She had none, herself. They didn't stick to her lovely skin.

"Good morning," she said pleasantly. Katakuri looked at her, then face forwards again. It was all Tori could do not to huff at him. Strong and silent, the cool older brother type. That was Katakuri. Except, that wasn't all there was to him.

He was lucky she had a saints patience. After some thought, Tori decided to keep things business oriented for a the time being. She could chip away at his walls and unravel his scarf later on.

"Are you going to train? Or view the grounds? As the Minister of flour do your duties extend only to the fields, or to Komugi as a whole?"

For a minute she wasn't sure he would answer her at all. Then, he tilted his head ever so slightly to the east. His short cropped hair ruffled with the movement, swaying crimson spikes along his high forehead. Tori's fingers itched to find out if it was soft. She hoped it was soft.

"I finished training earlier. I have no need to simply view the grounds. My duties are to govern Komugi as a whole, but they center around providing flower for the rest of Tottoland, specifically Mama."

Tori listened to his voice, soaking in the knowledge.

"Big Mom… am I expected to call her 'Mama', now, as well?" she mused, peering up at him.

"She will prefer it," he confirmed. Tori tapped her fingers idly, the closest nervous habit she had, after she'd been tied down for scratching at her neck to much.

"It's been a few years since I've called anyone Mama. It will take getting used to, I imagine. I don't believe Father will have a preference for what you call him," she added.

Katakuri looked at her then, his red eyes catching on her face before he glanced away just as fast.

"You don't have a mother then?"

"Ah, no. Forgive me, I forget sometimes that the news of the Archipelago does not reach as far as into the outside world as it does in my heart," her smile softened into sadness. "My mother, Her Serenity the Dogeressa of Soldano, Queen Dolce of Imperia, passed away fifteen years ago. A fever took her, I'm told. But, that's depressing. Tell me of your family, will you? I met your sisters briefly, but Brulee seems sweet. Blunt," she added, with a touch of fondness. "But sweet."

"She is," Katakuri rumbled, and there was no way to disguise the fondness in his voice. It made Tori's ribs contract. "As long as you're an ally."

There was something pointed in his tone.

Tori hid a smile. "Then it's a good thing that we are. Allies, wed, the pair of us."

Katakuri breathed a bit louder. Tori wished she could see the rest of his face. She wanted desperately to know what he was thinking.

"Yes," he said slowly. "What did you and Brulee talk about at the wedding?"

"That? The flowers. My people assigned meanings to different plants and gems. The stephanotis is traditionally given to all single ladies in attendance to a wedding, to wish them a happy marriage in the future. Another meaning behind them is the desire to travel. She and I were discussing them. A shame she's not a bit more confident," she mused. "I'm surprised the flowers made it here though. They're very tempermental. They don't like changing climates a'tall."

Katakuri said nothing to that. Nor did he try to walk away from her either. They strode side by side to the gates of the chateau.

Tori waited for him to send her away while he made his way out into the world around them. She waited for him to vanish in speed she just knew he was capable of. Instead, he pushed the gate open with his bare hands. No one rushed to attend them, no one scrambled and bowed and scraped at his feet the way they would have if he were an Imperian lord.

A smile grew across Tori's face.

She stepped out into the open air, free of the confines of the chateau, at her husbands side.

"Where are we going?" she asked, though she really didn't care. She was getting to stretch her feet and see a new place. New people, new plants, new land formations. New deserts, too, she would be willing to bet.

"To view the island," he said simply. His long legs could have carried him easily away from her, forcing the princess so scrambled to catch up in her long dress and its weighted skirts. Instead, he took slow, deliberate steps that let her keep pace with him whilst also preserving her dignity.

They didn't really venture into town. She could see it, the icing dripped rooftops and the gingerbread walls, the people who looked more like pastries running to and fro with their everyday lives. Bakers, mostly, but she caught sight of a few clothes shops and a grocery store as they skirted the town lines and moved on. Though all of the buildings were made and shaped like pastries the island was not devoid of true life. The giant smiling donut had once been a mountain, she was sure, but there were still rock fixtures. THere were still trees.

In fact, Komugi itself was very different from the Whole Cake Island. It was not completely drenched in the oppressive power of Big Mom. Her magic, her Haki, her Homie's were fewer and further between on this land. The donut was the largest give away to what it was but the rest of the island still held traces of what it had been, before it was taken over by Big Mom. The trees were true and green, the grass was delicate and waved gently in the wind.

"How long have you had this island?" Tori asked. She let her eyes trail across a patch of flower, long stemmed and yellow. Bees floated lazily from one to the other, little friends doing their best.

"Not long," Katakuri said. He didn't stop walking, so she left behind the flowers and went after him.

"Are you always vague and mysterious?" she asked, casting him a corner eyed smile. He looked at her and away, quickly, tucking his face further into his scarf. Her head perks up. Emberssed, perhaps?

"Who knows," he said simply, and Tori had to fight not to grin. As it was, she giggled at him, covering her mouth but not her sparkling eyes.

They walked the length of the island in a companionable silence. Tori avoid chattering his ear off, however tempting it might be to bombard him with questions and draw out every ounce in information he has inside his pretty little head.

Instead she walks beside him, measuring his steps and hers. Again she thinks of devil fruit and how to use them to her advantage, to make her life with Katakuri easier.

They returned to the Chateau by the time night fell, and Tori was handed off from her husband to her handmaidens. Her feet hurt, but she was smiling. Before Katakuri could leave her again for who knew how long and grasped his hand and kissed it, tilting her head in a smile that almost dislodged some of the gems in her hair.

He stiffened, red eyes flashing wide before he pulled his hand back and made his escape.


	3. Unasked for Perspective

**Sorry it's short, I'm a little nervous about this one tbh ^^'**

* * *

Victoria di Imperia was not what Katakuri had been expecting. When Mama told him he would be marrying at the next tea party he accepted it without question. When he had been stuffed into as stiff suit and had his normal scarf traded out for one made of silk and patterned with fish scales he hadn't put up a fuss.

He had heard of Imperia. He knew it was on the outskirts of their ever growing territory. Mama had wanted it, it was a vast land with a large population and a reputation for producing strong warriors. That all together shouldn't have been enough for him to be getting married.

That would have warranted Moscato, or even Cracker walking down the aisle, young as they were.

When he'd asked his mother, she had told him not worry about it and that was that. What Mama says goes in his world and his wedding was no different.

He hadn't been expecting Victoria.

All the gossip and all the teasing from Oven weren't enough to warn him.

She walked down the aisle with radiance that lit the room. Even with a veil covering her face he could tell she was pretty. She walked with grace and poise, walked towards him and damn if some childish fantasy about the farce being real didn't pop into his mind.

When he drew the veil back and Victory turned her first smile up at him and the rest of the world stopped spinning for a long second.

Victoria was _beautiful_.

Everything about her, from the graceful curve of her neck to the soft skin that looked like it belonged stretched in a smile to the shine of her blue-black hair dusted in diamonds.

Katakuri had never been up close during weddings. His siblings, those that had been married off by Mama, were always the ones up close and he was rarely positioned at an angle where he could see the face of whomever was marrying into his family.

He had heard stories of what brides in arranged marriages felt, what they were like. The descriptions were never pretty. They were lambs to a slaughter, sacrifices to a greater cause, meat sold to the highest bidder. A particular tale from the North Blue centered around a girl sold off to the strongest soldier of a kingdom that had conquered her own, the last noble lady from a rebellious state that walked to her marital bed with the proud determination of a warrior entering their final battle.

None of those matched the honey-sweet smile that graced him when he pulled the veil back.

Katakuri was suddenly intimately aware of exactly how little experience he had with women. His sisters he loved and adored, the women under his command were loyal and frankly quite terrified of him. He realized, standing in front of a priest whose knuckles had gone white holding his book, that he had no idea how to have a relationship with a girl.

He didn't even know what real girls were _like_. He was 26 and he had never been in any relationship, never mind a serious one.

He was so out of his depth that when the bishop told him to kiss her he glared as if that would light the man on fire.

He looked down in time to see her soft mouth, the color of raspberry smoothies, lay a kiss on the back of his knuckles.

She looked up at him like she knew there was heat and frustration and embarrassment crawling up the back of his neck and smiled that same way, all but banishing it.

"There," her voice was the soft sigh of the sea breeze at dawn, "will that suffice?"

The bishop looked ready to pass out. Katakuri wished he did instead of stumbling over, "w-well the man is meant to kiss the bride-"

That was that. Katakuri could feel Mama's eyes on his back, warning him not to screw this up. He didn't make many mistakes, they all knew too well the consequences of them. He wanted to kiss her, when she looked up at him with that kind smile, the one that defied every hostage bride he'd ever heard of. That was not to be.

"Fine," he grunted, and knelt to her height. She was so small. At her height she was even better to look at. He brought her fingers past his scarf, weary that she might try to pull it down or something else foolish. She didn't, and as man and wife they turned to challenge the bishop to try and correct them again.

Wisely, he didn't.

Katakuri was given time enough to remember how to breath while his wife went between his sisters, her own bridesmaids and a smattering of other invited young women, tying flowers around their wrists. She stopped at Brulee

Katakuri couldn't hear what they were saying, but something that was said made her face light up. The cake was rolled out right as she wrapped a flower around Chiffon and Lola's wrists.

Brulee pushed her, not roughly, towards the table where Mama sat with her sons. The only one there not part of the family was King Lysander, who sat one seat away from Katakuri. The empty space was filled by his daughter, who sat quietly beside him. Katakuri didn't bother to fill his plate, and neither did Victoria.

Perhaps she didn't care for sweets? He hoped that wasn't the case.

What was he thinking? It wasn't like they were going to eat together. They would live together but they would eat separately, they would live in seperate apartments in the Komugi chateau, sharing a bed was out of the question. They weren't going to sleep together, in any manor.

Katakuri set his jaw in a hard line and tried to focus on the conversation going on around him.

* * *

When they were on the boat, he couldn't help staring at her when she wasn't looking at him.

Victoria was a vision, her white wedding gown unrumpled and her hair shimmering with dozens of small precious stones. More stunning than all of the jewels, even the one on her finger, was her eyes.

Clear crystal blue, the burning with the reflection of the setting sun drowning in the ocean.

Katakuri wanted to say something, to tell her she was stunning, to ask that she turn those eyes unto him and see beyond his malformation. He wanted to reach out and brush away a stray strand of glimmering hair but there was none out of place that might give him the excuse to touch her again.

He could still feel the imprint of her small fingers in his own, soft and small and slender. He could still feel the velvet of her lips on the back of his hand, and he wondered if the tingling it had left behind would ever go away.

In the end, he couldn't bring himself to break the silence, and Victoria seemed content enough with it that she didn't try to either. Once, he thought that she might. She turned to him, caught him staring, and opened her mouth to say something.

Katakuri waited, his head beating hard under his ribs, before her mouth fell closed again and she instead levelled him with a softening of her eyes and a curve of her mouth. His tongue was too heavy to even try for conversation after that.

He said nothing to her when he took her back to Komugi, and in turn she said nothing to him. A silent departure, a silent trip until they came upon the room that had, on Mama's orders, been molded into one that he was supposed to share with his bride.

The closer they got to it the harder his pulse beat in his neck.

A part of him wanted to rip the scarf off, get the farce over with and let her scream. Like ripping off a bandaid.

Then he remembered her smile at the altar, the shine of her eyes and the flash of perfect, straight teeth so unlike his own.

"This will be your room," he said around a thick tongue that didn't fit quite right in his teeth. "You are the lady of this house, you will be treated as such. If you are not, inform me. Goodnight."

And he left. Walked away from his wife, whom he had neither truly spoken with nor truly kissed, determined to keep from her and her strange kindness as long as he could.

The chefs already had his room set up with a mountain of pastries and sweet teas.


	4. A Curious Walk About

Tori went out with him a few more times after that first night. Katakuri showed her the beach and the towns and the faces on trees as the dusk set the sky to a pale pink dusted with periwinkle and flecked with the Stars.

He stayed quiet, most of the time, and it was always Tori who sought him out, but it was an improvement.

He did not go out of his way to avoid her and he put up with her grasping his arm like a proper lady of the court.

It's bound to be something of a scandal when she gets home.

Katakuri is not a noble lord. He is not from an ancient family whose name is etched into stone walls and sung of in songs. He is not blood of the Novae, he is not even of their archipelago.

He is a stranger, and a demon, and the son of a witch who is eating up territory and consuming kings and countries who do not bow to appetite.

Even more than that, he is going to be their King.

Imperia is not like some kingdoms. They are not like the Grace's of Lazareth, whose line of success passes through the boys only. Theirs depends upon birth line, and despite her siblings phenomenal talents and contributions to the country it will inevitably be Tori who takes over the country.

Tori, and this strange man who will be their King, who she knows nothing about personally. Only secondhand information and a girls idled musings.

Was that why Big Mom had married him to her? So that she could claim one of her son's a king? If so, it still didn't explain why they had chosen Imperia. There was nothing truly spectacular about it. Not enough that it would warrant this.

At least, nothing Tori knew of.

She tried to banish the thought, but as soon as it passed through her mind it would not leave.

Tori looked out the window of the room gifted to her. A plum tree swayed in the breeze, fat red fruit hung low on it's branches and the sweet smell floated in with the breeze. It tousled her hair, lifting the long strands across her shoulders.

Was there something important about Imperia that she hadn't known about? Was there something dangerous on her island? Something useful to a woman like her new mother-by-law?

The idea soured the sweetness in the air and made her hands clench at her sides.

Her father was not a man of many words. He had taught them little, indulged them beyond tradition, but it was tutors and knights and lords that had been responsible for their real education.

He had loved their mother. Loved her so much that when she had died his heart had died with her and the light had left his golden hair until it was dusted with white and shocked through silver.

He had withdrawn from them. Tori wondered if it was painful to look at his children, black haired and blue eyed like his beloved Dolce. She had been smart and kind, when she could be, but she did not shy away from cruelty.

When Tori was young she had heard them fight once and only once.

Their marriage had been one of love. Dolce and Lydander had fallen in love during a court season when they were both young. When he was new King, still mourning his father and Dolce was the youngest Dogeressa in history. She was from a good family, an old family, but the marriage had broken his engagement to Laetetia Felicitas, one of the richest women in the Grand Line.

They knew, and their children knew, that they would have to marry politically to save face and to strengthen the political ties in their country. But Dolce, with a fury in her eyes, was the champion of her children.

She told her husband, did not ask but _told_ a king that his children would have a say in their marriage. That they could meet their betrothed and say no, if they so chose. She had made him promise, swear that he would uphold this. His daughters would not fear their husbands, their son would never be subject to a cruel wife.

Lysander had forgotten the vow with her death. He had not given Tori a choice, had not offered the option to say no. Her sister had not stood for her and called for arm in Tori's defence. Her brother had merely mentioned marriage laws would make an outsider a king.

Lysander had drawn away from his children. He had forgotten his vows, or merely hadn't cared, and Tori wondered if he had 'forgotten' more than just that promise. There were things that could only be passed from one to another, there was training to be a ruler that could only be learned from one that had been there or on one's own.

Had he neglected to tell Tori something important, the way he had neglected to ask her if she agreed to the proposal?

It was true enough, she couldn't exactly say 'no'. Her people would have been slaughtered by Big Mom and her children. She couldn't deny it, but there was something about not being asked that stung her.

"You look like you're about to spit lightning," Lapa told her. Her mouth it small and pressed over with blue lips patterned with small stars. The dress she wore was a pale blue that shimmered with silver woven into the floating gauze. Even looking for them it was impossible to see the number of knives strapped across her body.

Tori turns to her. She and Aelia are dressed together in black trousers loose enough to pass as skirts and blue shirts that fluffed around the sleeves and tied across the chest. They were dressed down, the pair of them on their way out of the chateau and into the village nearest by. If Victoria was to rule this land as well, she needed to know its people.

It would do her good to get out of the walls as well, though within the week she and her new husband would be on their way back to Imperia to visit with her father, as was tradition. It was meant to be a way for her father to ensure that she was being properly taken care of, but even if she wasn't, he wouldn't raise a hand to Katakuri. He wouldn't risk it.

Madelle might, if she thought she must. Aelia would, and Lapa would poison him with Daria cooking the pie. Varinia and Flora were hard to say. Perhaps they would fight him. Perhaps they would plot the downfall of his country and his mother.

The thought made her smile.

"We're to be off," she told Lapa. "Be safe. Beweary my husband, he may notice that you are not me."

"He would be the first one to see past us," Lapa reminded her.

"Still."

Lapa bowed minutely towards her.

Tori drew Madelle's arm into the crook of her arm and the pair went off.

The people of Komugi did not keep riding horses. All of their transportation was done on foot, or in a cart, if it was needed. And so Tori was on foot as well. She knew the way from Chateau to the town well by now, she had walked it many times with her husband, in name and perhaps in friendship, though she could not say for certain. A few evening strolls did not make a confidant.

They passed through the servants quarters, and out the back until they had left the chateau behind entirely. It faded into the background and they walked quietly through the woods. The gold sunlight spilled dappled shadows across the pathway and the smell of heat and greenery enveloped the two of them.

Komugi seemed to happily be a land of summer, with warm air that blew in and carried with it bird songs and the whisper of the magical, talking creatures that populated all of Katakuri's mothers land.

It was pretty, if not still a bit demented.

The more time Tori spent on her new land the more and more she came to realize exactly how isolated her island nation was. Their fashions were old, of tradition and finery and impractical unless they needed to be. Contrarily, everyone she saw seemed content to dress in little. Only one layer, perhaps two if there was a chill in the air.

In thin shirts without the fanciful embroidery and decor that Tori and her people favored. The clothes were not tailored to fit everyone, save those like her husband who had some type of giant blood within their veins.

Even dressed down as much as they had, the pair of them still stuck out. Thought the people had grown used to her handmaidens, and hardly looked at them while they walked past.

The fruit stands in the market avoided bitter things like lemons, limes, grapefruits and ashberries. The bakers were clearly the busiest, and the most popular. They had tarts and fluffy croissants, and breads swirled with cheese and cinnamon and strawberries. They smelled wonderful.

And Tori couldn't eat any of it.

She and Madelle walked arm in arm away from the aptly names Sifters Street and turned a corner down Bolt Row. Here she found the cloth shops and the merchants. But they were not tailors.

She eyed them in passing. A loom house emulated the steady clacking of a shuttle. One shop boasted long rolls of colors of only the more muted, natural colors. Greys, browns, greens, blues, oranges and yellows. Some were striped, some were plain.

Those were only two though. A few steps forwards revealed something that Tori hadn't seen in a lifetime.

A real, honest to god, clothes off the rack boutique.

Tori dragged Madelle in immediately. T shirts. Shorts, skirts, tank tops, name brand, cheap, manufactured clothes. Tori ran her fingers across a scarf that was rough enough to catch on the grooves of her fingers. She inspected a pre-patterned shirt that she didn't have to spend half an hour standing still for.

Her excitement bubbled. She had forgotten how much she missed simple things. Easy, modern things that she'd never paid two thoughts to before she'd died and come here. She started grabbing clothes and inspecting them, trying to figure out her size. She'd almost missed the bull shit involved in shopping for womens clothes!

She grabbed colorful t shirts and a couple of tank tops, to Madelle scandal and flushed face. And jeans. She's missed jeans so much.

Tori left Madelle behind while she changed. Trying on jeans for the first time in twenty years. They were rough against her soft skin, not worn in yet and tight. She switched to a bigger pair, and then a tank top.

When she looked into the mirror in the changing room she felt more like her old self. She felt less stifled, less restricted, and more free. There weren't a half dozen layers or a particular lay for the fabric. This was just clothes. She was just a girl.

Tori grinned at herself in the mirror and was surprised by her own reflection. Even dressed in common clothes she was beautiful.

She changed back into her blue and blacks and went to buy her new stuff.

"This is hardly worthy to touch your skin," Madelle told her as they left. Tori grasped her hand and tucked her hand to her side.

"Mad, dear heart, I like them. And if I'm to be here, I might as well enjoy what I can. I'll buy you some too, if you want."

Madelle 'harrumphed' but did not pull her hand away.

Tori, grinning, lead the way back to the chateau.

* * *

The night was cool and dark.

Tori said nothing to anyone before she snuck away from her room, did not rouse her handmaids from their slumber to accompany her where she was going. There was no need. The Chateau was asleep, quiet as could be. Not even the small talking mice stirred as she slipped out the kitchen.

She traded her fine silk slippers for thick leather sandals and set out into the forest that surrounded the amalgamated building. Everyday she could see more and more of it being eaten up by the sugar themed.

It was harder to see in the black shadows of the night. The donut that made up the mountain and overlooked Komugi was fast asleep, it's massive eyes shut as well as its mouth. The sun was vanished and only a small crescent made up the moon, a cheshire grin in the black sky.

The shoreline was not precisely close, but it was close enough for her to reach by foot. Far off in the dark waters she could see the barest silhouettes of a few small ships anchored off the ghost, lit by lights within the cabins. To ensure that no one got in or out without Big Mom's permission, she was sure.

Tori looked away from them.

She walked down the shore until she was standing at the edge of the water. It lapped at her toes and reached across the leather straps until it was at her ankles. She stepped in until she was calf deep in the water.

What little light there was vanished when she closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, drawing the damp air and the salt into her lungs. The lap of the water on the shoreline drowned out all worldly distractions. The darkness left her floating in an abyss of the sea and the sea alone.

Her soft skin chilled under the oceans care.

Imperia had old myths about the ocean.

The Ocean was the mother of everything and everyone. She and her wife the Moon watched over the world, and the people beneath it. The humans were the children of the Ocean and the Sun, who was brother to the Moon. Eons ago, after their children were born Ocean left Sun to be with his sister. Split between them, the humans were given to Earth to be raised and protected and raised along with Earth's children the plants and the animals and the precious stones. Moon and Ocean had their own children, younger than the humans they were Mermaids, Fishmen, and all the creatures in the seas.

Tori was a daughter of the ocean and a child of the sun and in the water she felt stronger.

She focused, humming the old nursery hymn that her mother had taught her, so very many years ago.

 _Roll forth Ocean mother_

 _Carry you children far_

 _Shine bright moon hung o'er_

 _Watch over their tepid flight_

 _Bring with you, Great mother_

 _The silver crashing mist_

 _Protect your sons and daughters_

Tori felt strength gather inside of her. Her soft, pale skin grew harder and darker. From Porcelain to stone to steal, but it wasn't enough. She gather the song inside of her, she grasped the feeling of her mother's arms around her.

She held it tight under the warmth of the memory was too much, until it threatened to bubble over. She released it all at once and the heat rushed out of of her, away from her skin. The ocean parted around her legs, swirling with the power that flowed out of her skin.

Tori stepped forwards and the bubble around her expanded and spread before her. Another step. The water did not touch her but if it had it would have been to her hips. She kept going until she was sure that she was in over her head. Only then did she turn back. She spread her arms around and the water churned and swirled around her, parting until she was standing on dry land once more. Sand scattered along with the water until she finally, finally released it.

Her breath came easier. The warmth rushed out of her and left her feeling cold in her dampened nightgown.

When her eyes opened, she realized she was not alone.

Katakuri stood at the edge of the forest, where the greenery fell away to sand and sage. He was tall, hulking shadow and his eyes were locked upon her. Tori felt bare before him, no make up, no fanciful dressed. Her hair hung around her in waves as black as the ocean.

"I thought you were asleep," she said slowly, for lack of anything else she could think of.

He looked between her and the ocean, one to the other, before he settled upon her.

"I thought you might be leaving."

She didn't know what to think of the tone of his voice. There wasn't one, and she couldn't read him at all. But there was no anger or malice.

Tori shook her head. "I am your wife. If I go I go with you. You are coming with us back to Imperia next week, aren't you?"

He nodded, slowly. "Mama told me to."

Tori wasn't sure why her stomach sunk so fast. She lifted her chin, gifted him with a smile that had no false, laid upon lips, and walked into the trees. She was aware he was following her this time.


	5. Intinerant Spouces

Tori sat with him in the garden two days later.

It was only partially food themed, will lollipop trees and spun sugar bushes, but the rest of the world was green plants and sweet berries. They fit neatly into the gazebo that had been built outside, painted white and inside was a small table, elevated on glass. They had lemonade, and straws so Katakuri wouldn't have to bother with his scarf or his insecurities.

He was still quiet, but he answered when Tori posed questions and went along with what she might have said.

She had been quieter since the night on the beach, but not by much. Tori had practiced for years to get used to talking to people. Before she had always ended up telling people a hundred times too much for their acquaintance, or rambling on about things that no one besides her really cared about.

She was better about it here, but Katakuri made her nervous sometimes. He didn't react much, but as Tori figured if he was truly bored with her he would just walk away or tune her out.

A soft wind blew and tousled her hair, pinned tightly against against her skull before it fell in waves down her back. In the summer sun it lightened minutely and the circlet gleamed silver in the sunlight. In the back it changed from twining strips of metal to blossoms of fine gems into hollyhocks of blues, violets, and reds. Her gown was simple, for her in any case, and formed well to her as it fell pleated across her in a violet wave that set off the blue of her eyes.

Her sandaled feet crossed beneath the long skirts. One day, she would put on jeans and run around. For now, she maintained her propriety.

For once, it was Katakuri who broke their small silence. "What were you doing the other night?" he asked. "I didn't know there was a water devil fruit."

They made quite the pair. A mirror of opposites, for Katakuri wore his spiked leather and his covered mouth and held himself with a warriors set, and Tori sat in fine georgette with her smile as her only visible armor.

A woman's courtesies were her weapons, her first etiquette teacher had told her once. Her mother had dismissed her a mere week after and replaced her with a woman who taught Tori to aim for the eyes and use her hair pins to her advantage.

She was also the first one to teach Tori about haki, and Tori had taken those lessons and run with them.

Haki was so strange.

It was in everyone, and everyone could use it, but so few trained to. And among those that did, nearly none of them pushed it to be what it could. They were contented with merely sensing who was around and darkening their skin. But the endless possibilities for haki users and the potential shot right over their heads.

It drove Tori insane.

So she did. She pushed it. She had little talents for kenbunshoku, mantra, observation haki or whatever other words there were for it. She could use it, but not to extent that she knew was possible.

It was busoshoku where she excelled. For someone with soft skin that would never scar, she had an armor that was just as useful as a sweet smile. Haki was, of course, what she had used to move the water. To create a bubble around herself.

"There isn't one. It was busoshoku haki," she told him. "I saw a man once use it to push at a distance. And so I taught myself to do the same."

It was the truth. Years and years ago she had seen Sentomaru use it against Luffy, twenty years in the future (give or take), and though it had taken her years she had eventually replicated the technique on her own. No one else knew what she could do, not even her handmaidens.

Except, now, Katakuri.

"You taught yourself?" he leaned his head down towards her, a strange light in his eyes that made Tori feel warm.

Tori inclined her head. "Yes," she confirmed, feeling just a smidgen of pride. She tried to squash it quickly. Pride would only lead to a fall, and to the ledge of failure.

"I didn't know."

Sometimes Tori was reminded of just how little Katakuri spoke, and how awkward all of the Charlotte siblings were. Quirky and strange, and not very well adjusted. How much of it was being raised in the new world and how much of it was from their mother?

Tori would not be asking any time soon.

She didn't know his siblings particularly well. None of them had visited since the wedding, but if she recalled correctly Katakuri was close with Brulee. She lifted her eyes up to him, an idea spinning into place.

"When we go to Imperia," she said suddenly, "You should invite Brulee to come with us."

"Brulee?" surprise registered in his red eyes.

"Yes. I didn't speak much with her, but she seemed sweet," which was true, if not a little… strange. And Tori didn't want Katakuri to feel completely out of place, or alone in her homeland. He was her husband, and she would do what she could for him. This included.

"I'll ask her to come," Katakuri agreed. His eyes curved ever so slightly and if Tori didn't know better she would have thought he was smiling. "If you can use haki, are you a warrior then?"

Tori shook her head regretfully, sending a few small strands of hair falling against her delicate cheeks, dusted with pink. She brushed them away carefully, minding that none got caught in her flower printed lips.

"No," she confessed, "My sister is the fighter. She's strong, and fast, and clever. I'm afraid that I'm just pretty."

Katakuri sat straighter. "You not _just_ pretty."

Tori wasn't sure which one of them was more surprised by him. Katakuri, by complimenting her, or Tori. It was something that no one had ever told her before. Not her father, not her siblings, not any of the man that had tried to win her favor and her crown.

 _Beautiful,_ they said _, stunning. Unparallelled. Enrapturing. Enamoring. The Lady Moon set upon the earth._

Yet.

 _Yet_ here was Katakuri, her husband, who had her hand and her crown and owed her no flowery words or even any effort, telling her that she was not _just_ pretty.

There was a flash of red behind his scarf before he dropped his chin further in.

"I'll call Brulee," he said abruptly. And left, just like that, leaving Tori sitting in the sun that slanted through the open sides, watching him go.

* * *

Tori was grateful.

In the months she had spent away from her homeland, little had changed. The ports were still bustling, vibrant and bright. It echoed and sang with the voices of her people, accented with a tongue half forgotten. They were forbidden, by the Celestial Dragons, to speak in the voices of their ancestors, but the flow of words still remained and though everyone would deny it to their dying day most still practiced it behind the closed doors of their homes.

Tori breathed in the sea-salt air, the thick fragrance of lavender, lacquer and the sweet wind of home. Komugi was nice, in its own ways, but it was not her home. It was here that she was finally free of the eternal watch of the Homie's, and the weight of their gaze faded from her shoulders as they came into port.

It came with a sense of freedom that she had nearly forgotten. She had had so little, and what she did have she treasured.

Imperia stretched out before them, green and vast. It's the largest of all the islands of the archipelago, distinct by the two mountain peaks that reached their snow-gleaning summits into the sky above. Blossoming between them, visible even from the coast, was Veleia.

A massive castle that sat dead center between the twin peaks of Fratello and Sorella, the brother and sister. Between them grew the capital city, and in it the sprawling palace. The towers stretched to the sky, the highest on the left and the smallest on the right, descending in turn.

Veleia got its name from those towers, shaped like a sail on a ship.

It was the biggest castle in their archipelago, and the biggest city in equal measures. It had been Tori's childhood playground, and it was still her brother and sisters home. One day she would return to it, and the spider-silk throne that lay within.

They coasted into the port, coming to a halt. The harbor master and a troop of Gemma's soldiers were there to help tie them down and escort them. The big ship that they took into the Bay of Stars, docked at Panarea. Large ships were not permitted into the bay itself, they had to be docked at Panarea, or Urbino and traded for smaller vessels that would bring one further inland. In the winter months those small boats, sloops mostly and flat barges, would take her up the river to Veleia. In the summer she and the rest of the court came to Casale Alto, the last castle before they entered the Breach.

Tori and her handmaidens moved swiftly from the four masted barque that flew Big Moms jolly roger proudly, out onto the docks. They crossed the shoal, thick grey stone that rose from the seafloor and came near making the Bay of Stars a lake when low tide set in. It kept the bay safe from invasions, and anyone who didn't know it was there ran the risk of destroying their ship on their way in. Lined outside of it were clippers and schooners that flew the Imperian flag. Two towers, one black and one red, and an eclipse hanging in the sky between them. Rather plain, Tori would have personally preferred an animal. Like a direwolf, or a dragon, or something else like that.

A quetzalcoatlus. A giant goldfish.

But, an eclipse wasn't so bad.

Tori stepped up onto the sloop first, holding her balance carefully. Her boots were low heeled , and hidden by her long skirts, the deep blue of the sea. The ship dipped beneath the weight of her husband and his sister, who was at least more of the size of her people.

Katakuri was still the largest human being on the island. He would be forced to duck and dodge doorframes the entire visit. Tori was thankful it was only he and his sister, and not their mother who was coming along.

According to their traditions, the ones of Imperia, a bride would visit home within a certain frame of time, two weeks, typically, though as they had gone quit far away that time had been extended. To ease any fears of the parents, and to prove that the couple could get along travelling , and that things were well and their union was strong.

 _Ours is hardly a union at all,_ Tori thought to herself. She would not share such thoughts out loud, but still the words from their nights whispered themselves through her ears, warring for her attention.

 _You're not just pretty._

 _Mama told me to._

Tori tapped her fingers against her side, forcing herself to stand tall at the prow of the ship. As soon as everyone was aboard they were pushed off of the shoal and sent coasting forwards with the wind in the sails that bore the twin banners, the pirates Jolly Roger and her own eclipsed castle. The warm coastal winds pushed them forwards, across the Bay of Stars, its waves glittering in the sunlight, and unto the Breach. Where the land on either side north and south of the Bay came together, almost touching, before opening once more, the Breach was an extension of a bay that stretched far into Imperia, forming a gulf that lead in from the bay. Here the water was warmer, pushed in by strong ocean currents that flowed across the shoal, and bringing with them all manner of fish.

In the middle of the Breach, which lead almost all the way up to Tori's home, sat an island. Ischia was a small dollop of land in the center of the Breach, bit enough to hold the city of Trajan, her castle, and world renowned hot springs that left the island constantly steaming like a cup of tea. Small fishing villages also dotted her shoreline, white buildings with red, green, and orange stucco roofs. As they drew further inland the sounds of Imperia rose around them.

Bird song, and the deeper prowl of wind that passed through trees. Far off the sound of cities, merely a dull chatter of people and animals going along their lives. If Tori listened very closely she could hear the Greenmen singing in the trees.

Steadily, as they drew nearer to the edge of the Breach, where it was fed by the mouth of the Logula river, people began to appear at the edge of the forests that surrounded them. They dotted the rising cliffs that lifted higher and higher the further inland they went, all out to see their beautiful princess and her strange new husband.

As they grew closer to the river water grew rougher and the boat pitched side to side.

The river came rushing down the steep inclines of the mountains and it took four men on each side to catch thick cables from the shoreline and attach them to the ship. Thick hooks caught on specially made clasps that attached to their sloops. They pulled taut on either side of the boat until Tori and her entourage were being pulled straight up the river. The Logula was as close to being straight as any river ever was, and was so steep it was more like a water fall. Tori ushered Brulee off to the side of the cabin and showed her the ropes to hold onto at they were wenched forwards. The thick cables pulled them forwards and the wind pushed them along. Tori let the fresh water spray across her skin from the side of the boat. It shook when it struck white water and strained against the cables.

Katakuri stood beside them, surefooted, but that didn't stop Tori from reaching out and grasping his hand when the water got rougher. Just in case. It was warm and calloused in her own and though he didn't pay her much mind he didn't pull away either.

The Logula was always the roughest part of the journey, and the one that felt like it was the longest. Tori could move from her position of she risked falling backwards and off.

Going down was much more fun than going up.

At last they crested the top and were pulled into Lake Logula. A queue of boats waiting to make the trip down were lined up around the shore, their decks filled with onlookers trying to catch a glimpse. They sailed across the lake until they were brought to the other side, where Logula the town lay. The ancient towers that rose in front of them had wide opening in front that the cables came from. The cables were long and looped around all the way at the bottom of the river and the end of the Breach. They were as old as Imperia itself. The ship was drawn between them and the hooks were released before they were sent back the way they'd come.

They sailed through Logula, a city split in half by the river that would finally deposit them at the base of Veleia. The streets were lined here as well, hundreds of people watching. Tori ignored it, but she could feel the two she stood between tense with the attention. Still holding Katakuri's hand Tori stepped forwards, no longer bound to hold onto the ship. With her newly freed hand she waved, Princess Diaries style, and the crowd roared with the cheers of her people.

Enamored with her beauty, as they always were, a cheer rang loud enough to deafen a man.

Tori felt no swell of pride nor vanity. If anything it made her nervous. Men did foolish things for love. She felt, more than anyone else's, the eyes of her husband on her delicate, soft face. His fingers wrapped around her own and this time Tori did feel a lightness inside of her.

They stood, the future of Imperia, where the world could see them, and Tori could only imagine the picture they painted. A hulking foreign pirate dressed in leathers and spikes, and their demure, pretty princess in her soft silk skirts and sweet smiles.

Not the traditional picture, but times were certainly changing. Roger had assured that.

He had been their protector before Big Mom, before his death, when he was sweeping the world up in his race to Raftel and his daring exploits. Tori had met him, however briefly, on his trip across her own island. She had been young then, just a scrap of a pretty teenager who wanted to see a king before he'd even gotten his crown.

She remembered him, and his two little cabin boys, with fondness.

While Tori was thinking they finally themselves vanished their journey. Nestled between the twin peaks sat the gleaming white walls and soaring towers of Valeia. Her home.

It felt different now, at least to Tori as she walked off of the sloop and onto the shores. The towering walls seemed less impenetrable, and in its own way less of a prison. Tori had ventured beyond their shores, beyond their shoal, and into the great vast ocean beyond. She had seen a castle made of a cake and witnessed a giantess and her children. She had left and returned and secured the safety of her people with a sacrifice of her own.

Perhaps someone would tell stories of her. Likely, she would be just another name lost in the obscurity of time.

The great Infinite Gate was pitch dark, a sharp contrast to the paleness of the walls. It had stood for a thousand years, guarding Valeia against harm and opening only for those given leave by Tori's own family. Now they swung open on ancient hinges and welcomed their wayward daughter once more into their embrace. Carved intricately upon them were long vines and faded flowers that had chipped over time. Yet, the gate stood strong.

Tori and Katakuri walked in, and she tucked her arm in his. Back straight, chin up and smiling enough to dazzle a blind man Tori walked the growing train of followers to the palace proper. Through the long streets, away from the traders and the merchants and up the clattering streets of the craftsmen. Blacksmiths anvils were quiet this day, and the loomhouse had ceased its forever clacking. Pottery wheels did not squeak or whir.

All those that used them were in the streets, watching their procession go by. Tori lead the way with the giant of a man that could no more hide himself than she.

The palace keep, thick walls decorated in splendid gems and carvings, rose above them with her towers in their procession. The periwinkle sky, long fingers of orange streaking through, cast shadows and brought light upon it.

They were greeted in the courtyard by her father, her brother, and her sister.

They were both pretty enough. Golden haired, like their father, with the pale blue eyes of their mother. Tori alone had her same dark hair, a black so dark it was almost blue. Each of them had high cheekbones, but where Lucien's nose was straight and narrow, Gemma's had been made crooked through many breaks. She had their fathers strong jaw and stubborn mouth while Lucien was delicate in even his wide mouth. Both of them kept their golden hair cropped short, and out of the way.

Tori stood out amongst them, a black sheep, a sweet lamb, and a terrible beauty.

Lysander, his crown heavy on his head, stepped forwards to clasp her hands. Only then did she release Katakuri from her hold. Her father kissed her on each cheek, a gesture Tori returned.

"Victoria," he spoke loudly, letting his voice reach the ensemble staff. Maids and footmen and stable boys and soldiers, all lined up in the courtyard to see her. His eyes skated to her husband but he didn't dare try the same courtesies. "Katakuri. Welcome home."

The staff dipped low bows and deep curtsies, heads dropping to chests.

"Welcome home, Princess Victoria," the all chorused, deafeningly loud. "Welcome to Imperia, Prince Katakuri!"

Tori stepped away from her father to look out over the conglomeration. She smiled genially and nodded to the assembled, breaking the spell that bound them all together. She looked up at her husband, who despite his best efforts still gave off of an air of discomfort. He looked at him before he mimicked her movement.

In a flurry of practiced movement the staff descended on them. Their trunks were taken and orders were barked, maids fluttered off to their apartments and the cooks and kitchen staff bolted for the palace. Pages rushed off to spread word to anyone who hadn't attended their grand entrance and the steward, Astolfo, stepped forwards with the head maid, Giulia.

Astolfo had been their steward for longer than Tori had been alive. He was a slight man, and in his youth his hair had been the pink of cotton candy. Now with age he had shrunk to be even smaller, and his hair was white with only a few pink streaks going through it.

Giulia was a bit different. She was a tall stork of a woman with a bony, hooked nose. Her pale hair was pinned smartly behind her head, and her brown eyes were ever sparkling with mirth. She had come into her position almost fifteen years ago, shortly after Tori's mother had died. Tori had a special place in her heart for Giulia, and whatever propriety said she hugged her when she was close enough.

"Hello, Giulia," she kissed each cheek in time with Giulia.

"Little bird, we were worried you'd forget where you nest," Giulia teased her.

"Never," Tori promised. She hugged her one more time before she pulled back, smiling at her.

"We have an apartment prepared for everyone, including your guests. You can dine there tonight, we'll put off the actual welcome party until tomorrow."

"You're an angel," Tori told her. She didn't feel like dealing with court intrigues right now.

"Mmmm, perhaps," she looked over Tori's shoulder, up at Katakuri who had come to stand behind her with Brule with him. If she thought anything of the pair of them, she didn't react outwardly. Thank goodness.

"Giulia, this is Katakuri, and his sister Brulee," she introduced, gesturing to the pair of them.

"Pleased," Giulia dipped a proper curtsey to the pair of them. Neither of them seemed to know what to think of her actions. People certainly kowtowed to them, but this was not quite the same thing. "I have a room prepared for my lady. Someone will be along to show you to the Silver Room in the morning for breakfast, with the rest of the court ladies. I'm sure my princes can show you to the Gold Room," Giulia added, looking at Katakuri.

Tori touched her arms. "He eats privately, Giulia," she said firmly. Not an argument, a statement. Giulia's brows furrowed. She looked between them before she nodded.

"As you say, my lady."

"The men and women eat separately?" Brulee asked.

"Only for breakfasts," Tori assured her.

"So the married women don't need to wait on their husbands," Giulia added helpfully. Tori touched her arm, drawing her attention.

"Giulia, will you please show Brulee to her apartments?" Tori asked.

Giulia nodded. "Of course, my lady. We've changed the royal apartments for the accommodations. I trust you can show your _husband_ along. " There was a note of teasing in her voice that made Tori narrow her eyes and hide a smile in the corner of her mouth.

"I think I can manage. Thank you, Giulia."

Giulia bowed to her before she turned to the Charlotte sister. "If you will, my lady?"

While she lead Brulee away Tori and Katakuri went their own. He didn't say much, and her handmaids were too busy unpacking an running around to re-familiarize themselves with the keep. It was bigger now, Tori realized. They had been remodeling. Making room for Katakuri and any giant children he was going to have by her. So tall were the doors that he didn't even have to duck.

Tori didn't know which one of them was more surprised.

The long hallways that housed the royal apartments was largely deserted. They would have been prepared long before they arrived, and by now they were largely deserted. It was just the two of them, and she hear Katakuri's voice for the first time in hours.

"What did she mean about waiting for a husband?" he asked.

Tori peered up at him.

"In Imperia, a married woman can't start eating until their husband has. Or at least , nobility don't by our own traditions," which was sexist, but Tori couldn't change that.

Katakuri looked at her, his eyes dark with some thought Tori couldn't read. She stopped in front of a door that had no been so big when last she'd been here, but was still in the same place.

She pushed the door open and the pair stepped inside.

Her already large bed had been exchanged for one that could easily fit the family of a normal human being, or in this case, she and Katakuri. The secretary in the corner was just as she's left it and the small sitting area had been enlarged. The two doors, to the closet and the bathroom, were also bigger.

Both Tori and Katakuri's luggage was at the foot of the bed. When Katakuri saw that, he stiffened.

"We're not sharing a room," he said firmly.

Tori went over to the bed and hopped up onto. It was wider, but not so much higher up.

"We are married," she reminded him. "And we need to put on at least an act that you like me. If the courtesans," which were not prostitutes in this country, in any case, "see a weakness they'll take advantage of it."

"I don't care. We're not sharing."

Tori looked up at him. Her blue eyes narrowed minutely. Then, her face smoothed once more, serene. It didn't really matter, in the end. As she told Madelle, the only person who's opinion on their union mattered was Big Mom. No one elses, not even theirs, was relevant.

"If you're worried about you face," she said slowly, "Whatever it is you're hiding won't bother me."

His shoulders tensed and he looked ready to fight, so Tori smoothed along, "Or, if it's that important to you, we'll keep the lights out and the curtains drawn, and I won't see anything at all."

Like East of the Sun, West of the Moon. Only she would not break her promise.

Given she was cheating, but that was unimportant.

Tori didn't know what she looked like. She was going for earnest and patient and inviting.

Whatever Katakuri saw when he searched her face, his shoulders finally slumped. Given up.

"If you look, I'll know," there was a warning in his voice. Tori was reminded, once more, that this was a very dangerous man. And yet, she felt no danger from him.

She smiled.

"Then I'll be sure I don't.


	6. Factitious First Impressions

Tori was as good as her word. That night, when they went for bed, she drew the curtains and he snuffed the lights, leaving the pair of them in pitch and utter darkness. Tori climbed into her part of the bed and Katakuri his. There was space enough for another full grown man in the bed between them, and though she would have welcomed some contact Tori was smart enough to know that Katakuri, in his shyness, might panic.

So she kept her hands to herself and when the morning came she rose without him. She dressed herself in a simple lace robe over her long nightdress and left the room. No one would expect her to be in finery for breakfast.

She shut the door quietly, leaving Katakuri sleeping in their shared room, and made her way down the long hallway. The ancient floor was worn soft and cold under her thin slippers, and sunlight streamed in from skylights above her head. She walked into the Silver Hall with a halo of light floating across her sea-dark hair.

The Silver room was home to three long tables equipped with benches. One was for the staff, who had already had their breakfast, another for the soldier girls, who would eat later, and the third was reserved for the nobility.

For Tori and the other rich, high ranking women she had grown up with.

She was one of the last to arrive. She took her seat amongst the others, already chattering. It was all idle, easy gossip, nothing that would make its way into court or true intrigues. This was a place for eating, not a place for doing business.

Tori piled her plate with fruits, took a bowl for yogurt and a pair of hard boiled eggs. Most of the others were eating pastries. Someone handed her a cappuccino.

Tori joined the idle chatter. She alone did not stop when the door opened once more and Brulee walked in, sticking out like a sore thumb. Her clothes were plain, her face was scarred and her hair was a mess. Tori adored her.

"Everyone," she spoke, " I would like to introduce my sister-by-law, the Lady Charlotte Brulee."

Brulee's smile was somehow both awkward and unnerving. She took an empty seat, and started piling her plate without saying much to anyone.

"If that's a Lady, I'm a cat," Seline muttered, loud enough to be heard by everyone from Selbo to Tori herself. Brulee's shoulders lifted and drew together and her smile spread wider and tensed. Tori stood up abruptly. She walked around the table, grabbing a bowl and a pitcher of milk. A strange anger possessed her, pushing her forwards.

She brought it over to set it in front of Seline, pushing her plate away.

"You," she said as she poured milk into the bowl, "Are Seline Butelli. Your father is a duke, and you are not even a duchess, when you marry your brother with inherit and you will hope for the best _. I_ , am Victoria di Imperia, crown princess and your future queen. And if I say that my friend is a lady _well_."

She set the pitcher aside and nudged the bowl of milk towards a stunned Seline, "You had best start lapping _kitty_."

Dead silence descended upon the women in the room. Tori had never been so aggressive, so uncivilized.

Yet now she stood, throwing her rank around in defense of a stranger who even Tori barely knew. But she would not tolerate it. She would not.

Satisfied with the mortified and red face Seline, and knowing that some form of retribution would come her way, Tori returned to her seat and continued on like nothing had happened to begin with.

* * *

Tori sucked in her stomach while Madelle laced up the back of her dress, pulling it taught. It pushed her tits up and gave her the illusion of not having organs. On top of the underdress and its laces draped a long length of blue as dark as magpie wings across her, falling straight down to the floor. On top of that she dropped a shorter length of imperial purple that fell only to Tori's upper thighs. The edges were carefully embroidered in patterns, inlaid with fine, miniscule diamonds that shone when she moved like stars in the sky. It clasped at her shoulders with silver fibula adorned with a diamond skull. Rather grim, but befitting her new status.

"Beautiful, as always," Madelle told her. She pulled her hair and piled it in tight ringlets atop Tori's head before binding it with a thick ribbon encrusted with constellations.

"Of course," Tori said absently, looking at herself in the mirror. She was a vision. She was beautiful and beloved by her people. It felt false. More so now than it had in a long, long time.

Tori slipped on her soft silk slippers. The sun was burning in the west, dipping towards the cradle of the sea.

Her mother lullaby came back to her again. She had learned it first in the Green Tongue, the one spoken in the forests.

 _Roll forth Ocean mother_

 _Carry you children far_

 _Shine bright moon hung o'er_

 _Watch over their tepid flight_

 _Bring with you, Great mother_

 _The silver crashing mist_

 _Protect your sons and daughters_

 _Great Oars push to safety_

 _The tide shall guard the night_

 _Lift high sea walls honor_

 _Shine under sunstones bright_

 _Stand tall, brother-sister_

 _Guard each truth and steel_

 _Cradle those, earth protector,_

 _Crowned in stone from their ordeal_

 _Senten them moon sister_

 _The sorrow of the earth_

Tori hummed softly. She knew there were more verses, but Dolce had never shared the full song with her. She told her that the sorrow of the earth was too sad for a child, but when she grew up she would sing it to her.

She never got the chance.

After Gemma was born, Dolce got sick. A post partum depression, she stopped sleeping, didn't eat as much as she used to, and she was left open to infection.

It had been common, in the first days of Imperia as its own nation, shortly after the Novara civil war eight hundred years ago. A disease that swept through the vulnerable, cultivated by dying on the battlefield it was given free reign, passed through blood and sweat and tears. Or perhaps the air, no one had known and still no one did. It killed within twenty four hours.

The dark spots appeared, and the children were taken away. Dolce was quanteened, and she died. Followed by five servants, all four her handmaidens, and three doctors that tried to help her. They were blessed than the disease had stopped there, and hadn't destroyed the entire city. Blessed, people said, but Tori and Lucien had lost their mother and Gemma had never even gotten to see her.

Now, Tori was a grown woman, married already, and Dolce would never see it. Would never know the woman that she had grown to be. Beautiful, and the daughter-by-law of an empress. One day, as the eldest child, she would be queen.

Dolce would not see that either.

Lapa finished with her hair, spreading a silver net encrusted in diamonds across it while Varinia lay her lips on. At last, she was ready.

Tori turned to the door.

"Let's get this party started," she joked lightly. Madelle, dressed in fine sapphire, skirts, nodded her assent swiftly. Lapa and Varinia took their places beside her. Aelia and Daria were hidden in the walls, in identical dresses to switch places with her if need be.

The gaggle of girls walked out of the room and into the hall. Katakuri had been shooed away some time ago, to dress himself properly. If he showed up in anything other than leather, Tori would be privately amazed.

They turned down the hallway and descended the stairs, meeting up with Brulee as they reached the bottom. She was flanked by the rest of Tori's handmaidens, who had dressed her up in fine a lavender gown the color of her hair that draped across her long body well, bordered in pale blue. They had painted her lips and sculpted her face, tamed her hair and braided it into a crown adorned with blue roses.

Tori offered Brulee, who was closer to her size but still taller by a good head, her arm. Brulee took it, looking at her with a new light and together the pair walked into the atrium. Long vines dripped down from the ceiling, covered in wisteria, bougainvillea, and honeysuckle. The impluvium was filled with false lilies that held candles in the center and glowed faintly as they floated.

Tori took Brulee to the edge of the water and sat with her while her handmaidens scattered. they had their own duties to attend to.

Tori could see her sister, dressed in her uniform, standing off near the door with her captains. Her brother was talking to a judge near the spread table of fruits, cheeses, and wine. Nothing that Tori couldn't eat, but with Katakuri expected to be in attendance she couldn't either way.

Unfortunate, but she'd eaten before hand. Tori was no fool.

She chatted idly with Brulee until the attention in the room moved to the staircase once more. She turned with the rest of the room to find Katakuri standing at the top. He was wearing an actual shirt that fit him well, dark and bordered in red to match his scarf. His pants were still leather and his boots were spiked, but he was missing the knee pads.

Tori stood and glided towards the stairs. A silence fell across the room, or perhaps she simply wasn't paying attention. His eyes were on her, and for the first time in a long time she felt a longing pressing against her ribs.

For someone so large he walked with a shocking amount of grace. He descended the marble staircase and when Tori offered him her hand he took it in his. A smile pulled at her lips, threatening the false one layered over top with silver glitter.

Katakuri kept his eyes on her and she her eyes on him as she guided him to his sister. He sat, crossing his legs, and Tori stood at his side, tucking her arm in his.

The band started playing soft strings, a low hum that build beneath her bones. Tori let herself stand close to Katakuri, for once taller than him, but true to her word, she didn't try to sneak a peek. His arm was strong and warm beneath her hand and she felt that heat in her ribs once more.

While they sat, she talked, pointing out courtesans, officials, and visitors scattered around the room.

"That one," she said, gesturing to a man in the corner that dressed in what appeared to be plain street clothes, no more than a tunic and leggings "is Orso Orseolo. He is a long trusted friend of my brother, sister and I but he won't take any lands we offer and so he's not a real nobleman at all. He says titles give him hives," she smiled like she was sharing a conspiracy, "because he's not got a title or lands but still has our backing and speaks with our voice, the rest of the court is terrified of him."

She moved on. "The woman in the green dress is Arcielda Severan. She has quite the scandal about her divorcing Pietro, the one with the red boots and the frown lines. Still, she's a good person, reliable and loyal to a fault. Once stabbed Chealsea Pruili with a fork and proposed Oblivion for her and hers when she tried to imply that disfigured babies shouldn't be kept. Chealsea is the one in the brown gown with the bear bracelet."

"How do you keep track of all of these people?" Brulee asked her, peering up at Tori with her same eerie smile.

Tori shrugged. "It's not very hard. I just do."

She was surprised when Katakuri's low voice reached her.

"You said that flowers mean things. Do those?" he looked towards the flowers that dripped down the walls in long lines of white, purple, and pink. Tori felt her heart lighten at the interest Katakuri paid, and perhaps a bit at the attention in general.

"Bougainvillea, the pink ones, are for 'peace and free trade'. We have ambassadors from the other Novara islands here. The Honeysuckle is for affection, fraternal and devoted. Wisteria, the purple, is for love, sensuality, support, sensitivity, bliss and tenderness. They're for us."

She felt his pulse under her fingers. Felt his shoulders draw together.

She drew a slow circle across a silver scar that crossed his arm, soothing.

"What's oblivion?" Brulee asked next. Tori's eyes darted again to Arcielda, speaking quietly to Alton Izard.

"Oblivion is the greatest disgrace for an Imperian," she told them quietly. "It's to have your entire existence erased. From the hearts of men and the Hall of Records. Your name will never be spoken again and you will be lost to the sands of time. Made into nothing and no body."

Tori's voice grew soft as silk and quiet as the grave. She was well aware of the attention that the two foreigners were paying her, rapt in her words.

Arcielda broke away from Alton and came over to them as the music picked up. She took Brulee's hand and tugged her to her feet, sweeping her away to dance. Tori was left with Katakuri, who didn't seem the type to waltz.

Brûlée was about as graceful as a colt, new and ungainly on its long, long legs. Bit Arcielda didn't seem to mind. Her son wasn't present, still just a child, and in any case he hated crowds.

Without really thinking about it Tori traced the strong lines of Katakuri's arm. She kept talking him, telling him about the people around them. Where they came from. The positions they held. Their influence. Their temperments, histories, old grudges and new ones.

"Some of them are like me," she told him. "Charlotte Victoria di Imperia. The 'di' is just a place holder. It means 'of'. If they have that in their name, they are as old as the island. If their family name is all their claim, they're newer blood. There aren't many 'di's left to us. It's been too long. Mostly, it's my family."

His voice was low and deep beside her when he spoke.

"Your family is very small."

Tori smiled. Small, showing now teeth. A grin was threatening a rude. "Yours is very large. And new, isn't it?"

"Mama is the first," he confirmed, but Tori already knew that. She hummed softly, her voice a quiet melody. The band picked a quicker tune and she watched Arcielda lead Brulee through a clumsy spin across the floor. Arcielda was a sweet woman, and a complete lesbian.

"And you are the second. Third?"

"Second son, third child."

"That must be a lot of presure," Tori mused. Katakuri shot her a look.

"You're a _princess_."

Tori smiled again, almost wide enough to split her false lips. "But I don't have to work for that. My whole life has been presented on a silver plate. I don't need to choose anything to get my future."

Katakuri's head tilted ever so slightly. Once more Tori found she couldn't read the look in his eyes. She wanted, suddenly, impulsively, to steal him away. Drag him out into the gardens and sit him in the grass and unravel his scarf so she could _see_.

But Tori was more well behaved than that. She let herself lean against his shoulder instead. Arcielda dipped Brulee low, until her hair almost touched the floor before pulling her back to her feet. Katakuri never looked away from them.

"You're very protective of her," Tori commented idly. He stiffened minutely under her fingers. Tori repressed a wince of guilt. That was right. Brulee's scar.

"She's my sister," he said simply. Tori didn't respond. Her own relationship with Gemma was much less… good. Gemma was a fighter, a general, hungry for power and stubborn. She was vicious and able. Tori was none of those things. She wanted no power, she fought for nothing. She was no vicious, so long as she could help it. She had been an honors student, she had competed in S.T.E.M., she had won academic decathlons almost single handed.

She wanted none of those victories again. She had no ambition. She coudln't. Ambitious people drew too much attention, had too many expectations placed upon her and here-

No one expected her to be anything but pretty here.

"She told me what you did this morning."

Tori looked at him, brows pinching minutely. She'd almost forgotten what she'd done. "Oh. Seline? She's never been a kind person…"

"You didn't have to stick up for her," Katakuri said. There was a note of suspicion in his voice that pained Tori.

"You forget," she said quietly. "She is my sister now too."

She patted his arm and released him, the magic broken, to go find Orso. Her friend caught her hand when she appeared at his side and kissed each cheek. Familiar, kind, with a hint of concern in his soft brown eyes. He talked to her about nothing. Court gossips, hail storms, his sister. The pair of them walked to find others that Tori had grown up with, just as painted and false as she was.

There were three genuine people in the room. She was not one of them.


	7. Musings of a Monster

**Thank you guys so much for all your kind words! They really are the reason that I keep writing this 3**

 **Before I forget, Anon from June 29th ! I guess I wasn't clear enough about what was happening? Tori wasn't manipulating the water, she was pushing it away from her with her haki, the way Sentomaru did when he fought Luffy with his Ashigara Dokkoi, not actually controlling it like a water bender or something. As for her learning it without a teacher. She did have someone to show her the basics, and I've talked a lot about Tori being a genius, this is just the first time it's actually been** ** _shown._**

* * *

Very rarely did Katakuri find himself in bed at a time deemed acceptable by other human beings. There was work to be done, especially on the island he'd been gifted not very long ago. Old spats he had to oversee, security details for him to check in on. And, now, a wife to keep track of. At first it had been to avoid her. Now, it was a raw curiosity. A need to know that she was nearby.

So he was awake the night she snuck out.

At first, he didn't even recognize her. He thought it was one of the flock of women that followed her around. They all had dark hair and blue eyes, and looked oddly alike. If Katakuri hadn't know better, he would have assumed that they were all sisters.

But no, it was her. A wraith, walking quickly in a thin dress and sandals. Already she was almost at the gate.

Running.

Something in Katakuri's stomach churned at the idea. He didn't want her to run. He hadn't expected her too. She hadn't run from the alter, she hadn't tried to avoid him when he would have made it easy for her. She was the one who kept finding him and walking with him, talking with him, her sweet voice a dove song in the dawn light and a wind through the willows at dusk.

Why would she run now?

Katakuri turned away from his original path, circling the chateau one last time, to follow in her footsteps. His long legs carried him after her and it barely took him any time to catch up to her.

She stood at the coast.

Her sandals were set aside, in the sand, and she stood at the edge of the ocean. Katakuri stopped at the edge of the greenery, his boots soundless and his hulking presence carefully concealed. He couldn't understand what she was doing.

She took a step, then another, and another, until the water was lapping up towards her knees. Her dress floated around her, encompassed by the reflection of the moon the floated in the water. Her dark hair floated like a shadow around her shoulders and down her back, obscuring most of her from his view.

A change in the air caught his attention. He stood straighter when the waves that had been touching her legs spread around her in a perfect circle until it didn't make contact anymore. The sand of the sea floor spread beneath her feet. Katakuri watched her walk deeper into the water, entranced with the way it warped around her without spilling so much as a drop in her hair. For a moment she disappeared, the water churning restlessly above her head.

When she rises again, from the depths, no sea water shining on her hair only moonlight to shine in is sea-dark waves his breath catches. The water rushes back to her and her eyes open, clear and bright even in the dark of night.

Katakuri has never seen her more beautiful.

Free of the false painted lips that make her mouth look so small, and heavy make up that hid the faint dusting of freckles he could finally see across the bridge of her nose. Stray whisps of dark hair flutter with the ocean breeze, caressing her cheeks. She looks softer now. Less like porcelain, more real.

Somehow, she seems less far away now. Within his reach in a way that she isn't even when they touch.

"I thought you were asleep," she says, and it's only then that Katakuri realizes he's forgotten to hide himself and been seen. The high edge of his scarf hides the hue that creeps across the scars on his cheeks.

He looks between her and the ocean, one to the other, before he settles upon her. He struggles to find something to say. In the end, he settles for the truth.

"I thought you might be leaving." His voice comes out flat. Easier than the shiver that tries to work its way through his throat. He cannot show weakness, he cannot allow himself to be seen to her. Not yet. Strong, intimidating. That's what he is.

But does he really want to intimidate his wife?

Can he?

Tori shakes her head. "I am your wife. If I go I go with you. You are coming with us back to Imperia next week, aren't you?"

Katakuri can't fight the swell of warm and affection that buffers its way through his chest. He barely hears himself say, "Mama told me to."

He can't explain it. There's no real change in her expression. Still inexplicably smiling at him. Her cheeks flush with the cool night air. But something has changed. Something in her eyes and Katakuri realizes that he's said something wrong.

He can only watch, tongue thick in his mouth, as she walks past him and into the trees. Beautiful, shadowed, and real.

* * *

Katakuri was making a mess of things.

He'd done it thrice now, that he knew of.

He made her talk about her dead mother. He did something at the shore that closed a door between them. And now, he's done something else.

He doesn't know for any certainty what exactly he's done. He feels like it would be easier to ask, to confront her about the strange distance between them now. It's not a gaping chasm. Just a small valley he could feel beginning to yawn.

Why? He struggled to understand.

Victoria was an enigma to him.

She smiled at him kindly, she defended his sister from her own people. She was soft.

There was something distant to her too. There always had been, even when they had been growing close before. Something she was hiding. A scarf of her own, in the form of false lips and fine gems.

He had seen it drop, once. Only once, when she had told him about her Haki practices. Her eyes had glowed and her teeth had shown with a smile that was all but voracious.

Katakuri wanted to see that. He wanted to see more of the hunger in her eyes, more of the brilliance and creativity that lived inside her.

Maybe he was over thinking things.

Maybe he had only seen what he wanted to.

Either way, he needed to find a way to make up his slights against her.

Perhaps one of her handmaids would have an idea?

That would involve asking them for their help, and the idea made Katakuri nervous. Mama had always taught him that it was a sign of weakness, and weakness was something that she didn't tolerate.

Stuck, Katakuri turned over in the bed he now shared with his wife. She lay beside him, shrowded in darkness that hid her from him as well as it hid him from her. He could just barely make out the shape of her body, so small compared to his own. He wanted to reach out and touch her. He wanted to light a candle and end the game of hide and seek he had trapped them in. He wanted-

He didn't know what he wanted.

He wanted the distance between them gone.


	8. Rancorous Relationships

This was the part that Tori was not looking forward to.

The sun was warm on her back, heating the thin blue cloth of her short sleeved shirt and warming her black pants, so thick they looked like a skirt. Even for fighting she was dressed to draw the eye, to look the lady with a thin rapier in hand and her hair piled high and tight.

Gemma, ever the rebel, stood before her in plain fatigues. There was a broad sword in her hand, contrary to the thin rapier that rested familiarly in Tori's. She hadn't held it since before the wedding. She could already feel the familiar grip, the way it pulled at her delicate skin.

She had only a few minutes to win.

They stood in the courtyard, with only a small audience. Tori was thankful that he husband and Brulee weren't a part of it. She didn't want them to see this sight.

Gemma made the first move. She always did. The long tip of the halbird lashed out, sweeping by Tori's head as she stepped to the side. She was light on her feet, graceful and quickly, and she managed to doge Gemma's attacks for a time.

The younger princess chased her across the yard, cornering her until she was forced to block and parry. Gemma had her on the ropes from the start, forcing her around the yard until she had to fight back. She swung her sword, twisting out of the way of another sweep of Gemma's. She thrust, getting within inches of stabbing Gemma in the stomach before she was forced backwards again by a shining streak of metal. Their weapons may have been dulled for the practice yard, but to be hit would still hurt.

Tori knew well from her own experience.

Gemma was stronger than her. Her hits were harder, leaving Tori's hands tingling with each block.

Tori spun to the side, avoiding when Gemma brought the flat end of her spear up to smack Tori in the chin. She kept many of the same tactics. Some things never changed.

Tori felt like she managed to keep up for longer than usual. Something in her spurned her on, and even when her palms started to burn with the friction of sword play she stayed true, arching out of the way and slice in at Gemma's powerful defence.

Gemma was stronger of the pair. She was stronger of the all the Imperian royal family, and all of the military too. She hadn't gotten where she was on nepotism. Her sister was a vaunted warrior, and when she attacked it was hard enough to make Tori's ears ring.

Rapiers were no good for real blocking. The blades were small and thin and against something like a broadsword they'd just as likely be damaged as hold steady. So Tori coudln't really block. She could deflect, change the rate of momentum and the angles into something that suited her better.

In the end, the whole world was angles, force, acceleration, friction, inertia. Math.

She could see it in her mind's eye. The curves of the blade, the speed they moved at, the angles she needed to work with and move around and alter for herself.

She could see the way Gemma set her feet, moved on her heels, lifted to her toes. She could see how close her elbows were to her ribs, how her shoulders bunched and curved.

She could see where Gemma was going to strike.

Tori was startled by a strang, foreign fire in her ribs. It burned through them, etching unto the bones her will.

She pushed back.

Gemma was forced to take a step or risk being cut above her eye. They flashed, darker than Tori's own. Tori had never put up much of a fight. She didn't see a reason to. Let Gemma be the general, the warrior, the fatale one. Tori was pretty, just pretty, and that was enough.

The ache in her ribs disagreed.

Tori ducked a sweep of a spear, dropping down to kick Gemma in the foot in the talus. Her sister stumbled, tried to stab down where Tori had been and knock her aside but for one Tori twisted away, was up before she could be struck, and thrust the dull point under Gemma's arm.

It pricked her shirt, where the seams kept the sleeves. If Tori had really been trying to kill her it would have pierced through her arm pit, and Gemma would have died.

Instead, Gemma lunged backwards, bringing her spear between them to knock Tori's long blade away, and that was the final push to end the fight.

Blood dripped from Tori's rapier.

She lifted her left hand, above her head, and announced, "I give up."

Gemma was staring at her like she was some alien life form, while her handmaids converged on her like a tidal wave. Aelia took away her sword to be cleaned and set aside while Daria and Flora took hold of her hand. Madelle stood back at the edge, making four of her six handmaidens. There was a strange look in her pretty blue eyes. She, too, watched Tori as thought she was something new and interesting.

Tori's skin crawled and she felt sick with the attention.

Daria prodded her sword hand, bleeding now with broken blisters and missing skin. It would heal within the week, and there wouldn't be any scars to show that she had been injured in the first place. She knew this, they all did. It was not the first time it had happened.

It always happened. She had to end fights fast or the friction would rip her skin from her muscles, destroy the precious fascia that held her body together.

Tori let herself be escorted away, back inside. The fire in her ribs ebbed away until it was but an ember left and Tori had to wonder, what had come over her?

* * *

The night was dark, but it held no terrors for her.

The darkness hung around her like a cloak, familiar. Warm, was not a word she normally used to describe the night, but with a massive body sharing the bed with her it felt apt now. Tori soaked in the heat for a long time, awakened by the panging in her injured hand. She didn't want to wake Katakuri. He'd been so on edge ever since they'd come to her home. He'd been on edge since their wedding night.

Tori wished she could set him at ease, but she didnt know how.

She wanted to tell him that he didn;t need to hide so much from her. She already knew . Buth that involved too much exposition for her to say. She wasn't willing to tell all that she knew. She wanted to unwind his scarf and see his face and-

And what?

Tori let out a soft breath.

She sounded like a child. Wishes and wants, she was so spoiled.

There was an ache in her heart. She had wished, quietly, privately, and so very desperately for something out of this match. Something she had never had, and never would here.

The silly wishes of a child when she was a woman grown.

Tori held many secrets. She held the secrets of her mind, she held the secrets of her soul, and she held the secret of her heart, too.

Her hand ached.

Tori sat up in the darkness. She didn't light a lamp, staying true to her promise. She did slid out of the bed quietly onto the floor, barefoot and quiet. Her night gown hung around her in a shapeless mass and she moved across the floor like a phantom. She fumbled with the doorknob only a moment before slipping into the next room.

Attached to her royal apartments were three rooms. A dressing room, a bathroom, and her closet. It was the dressing room that she entered.

Only when she was securely inside did she light a lamp. Madelle lept the first aid kit elsewhere, but Tori didn't need the whole thing. She only needed what she knew to be in her go bag.

She, her sister and her brother had always been raised to be ready to leave if need be. They had hidden passages and mapped escape routes, and all of them had bags ready to go. Bags with money, food, water, plain clothes, and medicine. It was from this that Tori took a small jar and new strips of bandages.

Her dressing room, for some reason, had a window and a window box that let in scattered moonlight when she drew back the curtains.

This high up, she could only barely see the sea, black in the night in the distance. More than that she could see the greenery of her home, the late nearby, and the rest of the palace spread about.

The sight is familiar but the darkness warps everything, shadows cloaking the world around her.

Tori looks up when something moves to her side. Out of the other room comes the towering form of Katakuri. There was a light on behind him that cast long shadows across his face. Tori repressed a grimace. She'd been trying to ensure that he stayed asleep. And she had failed.

Katakuri looked her over, his eyes stopping on her hand. They shot upwards.

"You're injured," he said. She swore she could hear a frown. Katakuri had gotten his scarf wrapped around his face but it was low, low enough that she could see more of his scars than normal. She said nothing about it.

"It's nothing," she shook her head. She had done it so many times in her life, she knew how to take care of burst blisters. This was just a side effect of her 'blessing' or whatever one might call it.

Katakuri can to her side. He knelt down until he was level with her and she saw his hands move towards her before they aborted the mission. His eyes flickered to her face. Tori felt a smile cross her lips, unbound by falcities. It felt so strange, not to have her face hidden behind make up or her hair pinned elaborately. Liberating, perhaps.

She offered him her injured hand.

He took it, carefully, peeling away the old bandages with practice that told her that she was not the only person here with practice patching wounds. They fell to the floor, revealing the damage beneath. Fluid leaked out from where the skin had torn away and gaped now. Tori knew, consciously, that the best way to heal blisters was to push the skin back down and leave it there, even after they had opened. But she had never grown out of the childish habit of ripping the skin right off. It's not like it would scar, and infections were easy to combat. But, from the furrow in Katakuri's brows and the twist in his cheeks, it was likely he agreed with Madelle's futile scoldings that she needed to cut it out.

"What happened?" he asked. Tori felt her cheeks heat. Katakuri was a vaunted warrior. She didn't want to tell him she had lost a fight so pitifully to her younger sister.

"They're just friction blisters. They will heal," she assured. It felt nice, to have his hand encompassing hers.

"You didn't tell me you were hurt." He didn't sound annoyed. Something else. She didn't know what to call it. She looked at their hands instead of his deep eyes. His were so much larger than her, calloused and hardened from work. Scars crossed silver across palms and fingers.

"It's barely anything," she assured. Her smile grew with his concern. It felt… nice. " I was just changing the bandages. I didn't want to wake you," she told him quietly.

Without asking her Katakuri reached for the small jar of antibiotics. Tori watched him spread it across her palm and carefully replaced the bandages he had removed.

His quiet voice surprised her.

"You can tell me things. You know."

She didn't know. But it made her feel strangely light to be told. When her hand was wrapped she turned it over to grasp a hold of his, smiling up at him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. We should go back to bed, don't you think?" she stood, still holding his hand.

"Victoria," it was the first time she had ever heard his name pass from his mouth. It hummed beneath her skin, echoing around them in the small space. She squeezed his hands.

"Tori," she said quietly. "You can call me Tori."

He nodded, slowly, and the pair of them went back to bed. Tori shut out the lights and waited for Katakuri to finish taking his scarf back off. When he laid down, she sunk into the bed next to him and took his hand once more under the blankets. He stiffened at first before relaxing again under her soft touch.

"You know," she began, quietly. "You don't have to hide your face from me, if you don't want to."

She was pleased when he did not tense up once more or try to leave. Nonetheless he shook his head, no more than a vague movement in the darkness and the hush of his cheeks on the didn't press the issue. It would come, in time.

She closed her eyes and let sleep wash over her, hand in hand with her husband.


	9. Departing Debacle

The last day was too short and too long at once.

Tori was not yet ready to leave her childhood home, her jungle gardens and the deep lagoons. The mountain peaks, just barely dusted with snow. Her bay of stars. She wasn't ready to go back to the surreal. Talking trees, massive pieces of pastries, and people who were barely now her own.

She didn't have much of a choice, though.

Tori strode through the long hallways of her home, sunlight falling through the windows to warm her skin as she went. She was tailed by her whole entourage. All six of them followed behind her. Madelle lead them, a few steps behind her on the right. Behind her was Aelia and Varinia. On the left side was Daria, Flora, and Lapa. They matched in their light, floating pink dresses. They made for a good high light of Tori's own blue dresses. Layers and layers of thin robbins egg blue, so pale her own eyes looked nearly as black as her hair in comparison.

They floated through the palace until they arrived at her fathers solar. A tablinum, some called it. Her sisters soldiers, all dressed in their fatigues, stood at attention on one side of the door. Her brothers valet's stood on the other. Three for each of them.

Tori's handmaidens stood across the hall, lining like a curtain pulled across the arches of the peristyle. Her father's valet's, only two now, opened the doors to let her inside. Gemma and Lucien were already seated at a table near the clear running fountain opposite the room of her fathers desk.

Her father himself sat behind it, hands steeped and brow furrowed deep in thought. He watched his children as Tori joined them, smoothing her skirts before she sat beside the fine marble piece. When they had been children they had had a kitten who would sneak in at all times and drink from the fountain.

Sir Pounce, who's offspring now harried the kitchen staff and spent their days lazing in the sun, as their father once had.

"I've come to say goodbye," Tori told them. "Yet I fell there's something more going on here that I'm not aware of. Father?"

Gemma and Lucien had the faces of children who had been summoned. Indeed, Gemma was still a teenager, and Lucien only a bit older than she. Tori tilted her head, sending a sing curl falling across her cheek. The rest of pinned tightly out of the way of her face, and her dress, while fine, was fit for travel.

"I was about to tell you brother and your sister. You might as well hear it too. Gold Roger is dead."

Tori didn't outwardly react. That was old new. It had happened before her wedding, before the 'proposal' from Big Mom. She still had one of the Roger Pirate jolly rogers stowed in her hopechest somewhere.

"And?" Gemma asked impatiently.

"And," her father went on, shooting his youngest an unpleasant frown, "that means that the world is unstable. We stand as royalty in the New World, on our ancient island, but as the world has become more tumultuous through the rise of pirates and the struggles of the navy we find ourselves in a precarious placement. We need allies."

"We have allies," Tori objected. She could already see where this was going. Lucien and Gemma sat oblivious, but the understanding dawned to her at once. They were royalty. Royalty that needed allies outside of their own people, and the best way to get those was to do as they had already done once, with her.

"I will not have us relying solely on the Big Mom pirates. She is tempermental and unstable, as liable to turn on us as to provide us aid unless direct offense is offered to her. No. We need more than that."

"Lucien!" his voice raised and sharpened and her brother, her only brother, sat ramrod straight. He stood on bones of duty, weighed heavy with the crown of a prince and a legislature. He was just, he was noble.

"There is an island that was our friend in the past. A part of the World Government. It will be your duty to secure them as our friends once more. Their king has a daughter your age."

"No," Lucien shook his head as reality dawned upon him. "Father, please-"

"Marry the girl. Princess Scarlett will bring us into the graces once more. Her country is known for peace. You won't have many problems with ruling it in her name."

"I'm needed here," Lucien argued. "The people need me!"

"The people will find another advocate," he said shortly. "Their lives outweigh their liberties. Remember this, if you are ever to be a king."

"I'm not supposed to be a king! Victoria is the eldest, she is to be Queen, and I a prince."

"Things have changed. Your duties have changed with them," their father's voice brokered no arguments. "Pack. You leave at the end of the month."

His gaze turned to Gemma, who up until then had looked little more than insuferably satisfied with her siblings misfortune. When she met their fathers gaze her shoulders drew together and her chin lifted.

" _No_ ," she said viciously. "No, you can't mean me too!"

"It's necessary. You'll do as your told, Gemma."

"I'm not a bitch to be sold to a stud!" she stood so fast her chair clattered to the ground. The light of the sun seemed, to Tori, to dim in the room. It cast long, dark shadows across their fathers face. No longer was he Father. He was the king, now, and family meant nothing more to him than strings to pull and tie.

"You're my daughter!" His voice rose, snapping like a whip that had Gemma wild eyed and tense. Tori half expected her to draw her sword.

"You are a princess of Imperia. You will do what is best for the country."

"If you send me away our military with crumble! You'll weaken us! You're not making us stronger, you're dividing us and making it easier to pick us off! Victoria wouldn't be missed but Lucien and I have jobs to do."

Tori swallowed hard. The barb struck hard in her lungs, liks rose thorns needling into her ribs. Her fingers curled slowly into fists.

"Your arrogance will get you killed in a real war. Before Lucien leaves, you will. Your husband waits for you in the East Blue. It's peaceful there. Goa."

Words bubbled on her tongue but bitterness killed them before she could speak.

 _She's only a child!_ She wanted to say. _You can't make her marry! That was what I was. I was to secure our future, and they were to_ live _._

Instead she stayed silent, watching Gemma's face turn a blotchy red and her chest heave with fast, rapid breathes. Tori could see the whites of her eyes, like a spooked horse.

Tori stood slowly, all grace and sweet smiles and politeness. She dipped a curtsey to their father befitting the crown princess.

"Until next time then. I'll leave you to play your game, Father."

"It's more than a game. And you had best learn to play it yourself, Victoria, before the weight of the crown breaks your neck."

On those cheerful words Tori made her exit, head high and fists hidden in the long folds of her gown. Lucien trailed after her, shocked, with Gemma fuming at the rear. Tori caught sight of her husband and good-sister down the hallway, waiting for her. Daria had joined them at some point and was talking softly.

A hard hand closed around Tori's wrist and wrenched her back wards, shoving her hard against the marble wall. Tori stared, lips parted with question, at Gemma who tried to loom at her. She was so furious there were tears now prickling her eyes red, but her lips were fixed in a snarl. A horrible silence descended across them. She could see Madelle take a step towards her.

"Why did you say anything?!" she demanded harshly. "You could have changed his mind! I'm not going to the fucking East. He can't make me!"

Tori plucked her arm from Gemma in a smooth move that nearly brought the stressed younger princess tipping forwards.

"Just where was your army when I was fit to be wed?" Tori asked, coldness settling through her. It wrapped ice around her heart, staying her hand from trying to offer her sister comfort. Tori would not be missed, and so she would not miss Gemma. "When time for tea party came, how many banners did you call?"

She left her there, gaping like a fish, and marched to her husband with a the air of a woman who tread on top-frost.

* * *

The trip down from Imperia's capital was much easier than the journey up, a swift glide that took them tipping into the bay. When they arrived, however, they found that during their absence the great ship they had taken from Komugi to Imperia and her sisters had sprung a leak.

When questioned, no one would say who's fault it was or what it was that caused the damage, but Tori suspected it had something to do with the missing cabin boy and the fact that they were now a cask of wine and three canon balls lighter than they had been when they'd ventured in.

Katakuri said nothing, but the slight furrowing of his brows had everyone on deck scrambling to try and repair it even quicker than before. Tori smothered a small, pitying smile at their expense. They were all so eager to please her husband. It was rather adorable.

"They won't finish before nightfall," Lapa told her. She glanced as well to Katakuri, "Shall we have ourself returned to Veleia?"

Tori thought of her sister, still a ball of fury, and tasted bitterness like a rotten peach on her tongue. She knew her anger wouldn't hold over the night, but she still had no desire to go back yet. She couln't imagine looking on her sisters face and not feeling the thorns in her lungs.

Yet, it was not her who spoke.

"No."

They both looked up at her husband. He made eye contact with neither of them, his attention on his crew.

"We can stay here for now."

Tori nodded her agreement slowly. That was fine with her.

"Perhaps we should stay in Panarea for the night?" Tori suggested. "It should be empty still. We won't need much room."

Karakuri dipped his head once. They set off, to the mansion that overlooked the sea. It clung to the edge of the island, beside the underwater barrier. Once it had been home to the Serrets, but they had migrated to Aosta a half century before Tori was born. Now the villa was used as a hotel for nobility, for lack of a better word.

By the time they walked through the tall gates the sun was halfway set. They should have been so far she could no longer see the tips of the mountains. Instead they strode in and were immediately swarmed by the manager and his staff, cotowing until Tori's handmaidens herded them all away. Save one valet, who was happy to show them to empty rooms.

Tori spoke kindly to him, thanking him for the help, and he left with pink resting high on his cheeks. Katakuri seemed less happy with him, shutting the door firmly after he left. Tori looked over the room. It was modest, her husband had to bend to keep his head from knocking on the roof. Tori covered her mouth to try not to giggle at the sight. Her own people were tall, but he was another story altogether. Literally.

"It's not the most comfortable," Tori mused. Katakuri sat on the edge of the bed. When he bent to accommodate himself she caught the barest sight of pale teeth poking out of his lips.

 _Fuck, that's cute._

Tori sat beside him on the bed, looping her arm with his and leaning on his shoulder. He didn't tense like he would have when they first began. Instead he took her hand, no longer wrapped with bandages, and turned it over to inspect her palm. The skin was still pink and sensitive, but there were no extra layers, no scar tissue to be seen.

"Strange," he commented, so low she wouldn't have heard if it wasn't said right next to her.

A phantom smile crossed her face. "It was a 'gift' from our Enchantress."

"From whom?"

"The Enchantress," Tori looked up at him. "You don't know?"

He shook his head minutely.

"She blesses babes at their christening. She declared that I would be beautiful, and so I am, and I always will be. I won't callous or wrinkle, I've never had acne or scars and I never will."

"If you don't callous or get scars, your skin won't toughen."

"Mhmm. I know. My hands blister and bleed every time I do any kind of labor. It's always been like this. I'm soft and pretty, you see," her smile was not entirely genuine.

Silence fell for a long moment. She didn't know what he was thinking.

"What were you and your sister talking about, in the hall?"

Tori sighed sofly. She closed her eyes. Already she could feel the angry thorns start to untangle themselves from her lungs.

"My father is marrying her and my brother off. She was upset, and she was upset that I didn't try to force his hand or change his mind."

"Why didn't you?"

Tori traced the lines in her husbands palm. Her soft thumb brushed the hard callouses from his hard won strength. She had seen his trident at home, though she had never seen him have to use it, and for that she was grateful.

"She's a princess. He's a prince. Our lives do not belong to us," Tori said quietly. "They belong to our people. To our kingdom, to our throne, to our father and our ancestors. Somewhere along the way, they forgot that."

"You never did, did you?" There something in his voice. Something like respect.

"It's the same for you and your siblings, isn't it? You wed at your mothers behest, to join the family and grow your power and secure your lines. It's not so different. Still…" she shook her head, trying to dismiss the silly thoughts.

"Still?" he prodded, looking down at her.

Tori looked very intently at their hands.

"Even though I know what I am, and what my life will hold, I had hoped… when I was married, I had hoped that he might be blind."

She could _feel_ his confusion.

"Blind." he repeated.

"Blind. So that if they came to love me it would be in spite of my beauty rather than because of it."

He sucked in a hard breath. Tori waited for him to say something, but nothing came. They sat together as the sun began to dip and the shadows chased across the floor, both lost in their own thoughts.


	10. Belated Birthday

Things were peaceful, after their return from Imperia.

Even with the tightness in her ribs and the ugly taste of betrayal on her tongue Tori couldn't deny that she was starting to enjoy her time with Katakuri. He was still a quiet man, all in all, but he didn't avoid her anymore. Now and again he would even seek her out on his own, and take her on walks with him.

She also started taking on the administrative work. The day to day running of the chateau, and small disputes in the rest of the island as well. It was easy for her, it was what she had been raised to do after all.

Katakuri was a bit more at a loss for such things. He was a warrior, not a governer.

"So you see," she said one day, sitting knee to knee with him in the office, "While these two farmers may be threatening to go to war over this strip of river, there's about six other reports saying the same thing going back twenty years. So while it would be a good idea to set this to rights, it's not an emergency, and we can set it to the back burner. Contrarily, these reports of polluted water should take absolute presidence, especially on an island of this size."

"And the man claiming his wall doesn't break any laws, is also unimportant," katakuri set that file in the same pile as the farmers.

"Everyone under our protectorate is important," she pointed out, "but yes, that's not a priority. Besides, he's not wrong. The code says that he can't have a fence going higher than four feet off of the street. The five foot concrete base he poured before hand raises the street level, so his fence is really on three feet tall," Tori had to fight a grin. She didn't want to split her false lips, red decorated with fanciful gold roses.

It was getting harder and harder not to smile when she was around Katakuri. She liked to believe that, under that scarf, he smiled at her as well.

"You sound like you admire him for pushing the boundaries of a law."

"Perhaps I do. I have been trapped in rules my entire life. 'Victoria, you must wear this', 'Victoria, a princess stands at the correct angle.'" she rolled her eyes.

"You make a the rules now," Katakuri pointed out.

Tori sat up, suddenly straighter. She made the rules now. She _made_ the rule now. This was their home. Their land. She was not bound by the traditions of Imperia.

"I could wear _jeans_."

When she looked back at her husband there was a definite curve to his eyes. A smile?

Business first. Business before pleasure, she turned back to the stack but her cheeks hurt from the smile pulling at her mouth.

Perhaps she could wear her jeans in full view of the court one day, and tell them all to fuck off.

* * *

As the year came to a close, with it came a day that Katakuri had almost forgotten even existed.

Victoria's birthday.

Their life together, from one day to the next, had fallen into such a pattern that having something change didn't feel quit right. They still slept in separate beds but they took long walks to the beach at dusk where Katakuri marvelled at her haki control. He had never seen anyone able to project haki like that before. She was a marvel in the water and the moonlight.

Their daylight hours were spent governing their lands and walking together in their home. Victoria was beautiful, she was a star in the shape of a woman and she was his bride. Her hand in his, while small, was warm and welcoming.

So, when he heard one of her ladies in waiting (who sometimes changed places with her, he'd found) mention that the birthday gifts should begin coming in, he realized that he had no idea when she was born. How old even was she?

So he listened and he looked over files that his mother had procured before they had joined their houses. It was the first time. Mama would tell him what he needed to know, and what he needed to know was that he was marrying this woman.

Tori was twenty three years old. Four years younger than him. She was born on Imperia, a summer island, in the scant winter months, on the twenty fifth of January. Her mother had fallen ill and died when she was seven years old. There wasn't much about her. No scandals or information about her likes or dislikes. All there was was basic fact. It was one of the scantest reports he'd ever read in his life.

How could Tori, who was so interesting, have such a dull life?

She was a mystery that Katakuri was ever so desperate to unravel.

He doubted that would happen any time soon. Tori spoke to him, but even still, he struggled to form the right questions he wanted to ask her. Where was her passion, what did she love? Her own people. How different were they from his? Pirates and princesses.

What a strange story their life was going to be.

Katakuri had grown up as a pirate, and as the son of Big Mom no less. Their parties were massive and filled with food to feed their mother, mostly, but the rest of them too.

They had a feast of food and cakes as tall as regular men.

Yet, there was no part being planned for her, as far as he could see.

He didn't understand. But he understood that he, at least, wanted to do something for it.

So he set about doing something he was good at. Something that didn't involve fighting or skewering people on his trident.

He decided he was going to bake her a cake.

Katakuri sent the chefs out of the kitchen and chased away anyone who tried to come closer than that, a glare peaking over the edge of his scarf.

By the end of the day he had a cake made, big enough for the pair of them.

He frosted it and decorated it with careful blue swirls. It wasn't a masterpiece but…

He didn't know what else to get her. She seemed to have everything she could want, at least materially.

Perhaps there was something else he could do for her. Maybe one day she would tell him, what she wanted. Her dreams, her goals. What were they? She cared about people. Her people, his people, their people. She seemed to understand them so easily and know when something was important and when something was trivial. She knew everyone's name, everyone's face, and things about their families, hobbies, and homes.

She even took him into consideration. He could still remember the warmth of her small body pressed against his from behind in the darkness of Imperia. And Brulee. She barely knew her, but she defended his younger sister.

People were important her.

And he had thought, before, that she was frivolous. But she had been delighted when she realized she could wear something as trivial as jeans.

Katakuri tried to clear his mind as he walked the way to his young wife's room.

Finally he pushed the door open.

She was sitting at her desk, writing something in her fanciful, neat handwriting when he walked in. When she looked up at him her strange, false lips were missing and her real ones curved upwards in a smile.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked, turning away from whatever she was working on to face him. Her fine dress was draped around her, hiding her from him in soft blues.

"It's your birthday," he said, and set the cake down on a clear space on her desk.

For a long minute Tori just stared at it. A strange smile sat upon her.

"This was so sweet of you. Pun intended. But… I can't eat it."

Katakuri frowned behind his mask. Was she on some sort of diet? Was that why she was so thin?

She must had seen something in his face. Something that gave his thoughts away.

"I can't have any cake. Or bread, or ice cream, or anything fried at all. I'm allergic."

"To cake?" he couldn't help the horror in his voice.

"To gluten," she corrected him gently. "Wheat, barley, rye. Any of that, and it destroys me. If it gets too bad, they have to preform surgery on my internal organs."

Katakuri's mouth fell open. Wheat, Barley, Rye. That was in everything. Everything! On this island especially where Mama had tasked them with growing all of those things to feed her ever growing appetite. He was the minister of flour!

"Oh," was all he could think to say. What else could he offer her? An apology? What good would that do to her allergy.

One so bad she might have to be cut open if she ate it.

"But I can have icing. As long as there's only sugar in it, and no anti-caking ingredients. So, why don't we share?" her smiled was sweeter than any desert. "I'll even close my eyes, okay?"

Katakuri wanted to tell her not to. He wanted to tell her she didn't need to. He wanted to finally give this facade up.

He wanted her to never see him.

 _When I was married, I had hoped that he might be blind._

If Tori had been blind, what would he have done?

"That sound nice," he said at last, sitting down on the floor next to her. Her eyes lit up and her smile grew, unrestrained by the fanciful ones she wore regularly.

Tori went to her dresser and came back with a long scarf that she tied around her eyes, hiding them from him and him from her.

Katakuri was left in charge or splitting the icing from the cake and gathering it in a spoon for her. He was careful not to let a single crumb get into it. He got to see her smile, and listen to her laugh and talk to her.

It was the first birthday they spent together.

He hoped that by the end of the next one, he might not even have to ask her to close her eyes.


	11. Stray Threads

Tori was surprised by the fact that she was being allowed to go back again. Not, this time, to Imperia but to her sister island Soldano. Her mothers home, where she had been named Dogoressa so many years ago.

It was not quite like Imperia. The island was mostly flat, and some of it was even regularly underwater. The canals had to be traversed with flat bottomed boats, and gondolas. Elegant bridges stretched from one side of the street to another. The houses were painted with brilliant colors over brick and proud signs declared artisans, grocers, and everything in between.

Tori sat in the back of a water taxi, her legs crossed at the ankles. She was humming happily to herself, dressed in jeans and a loose violet shirt.

The sun was warm against her skin, and the breeze that came off the canal was cool. Beneath them dolphins swam and fish flashed silver scales in the sunlight.

"We're almost there, ma'am," her drive called over his shoulder. "It's at the end of the block."

"Thank you," Tori smiled sweetly at him. Madelle and Daria sat on either side of her, also dressed in jeans. Katakuri hadn't come with them this time. Soldano was not made for men of his stature, but with her siblings gone and her wedding passed, Tori felt like she needed to do this.

She needed to go to her mothers home.

The house that she had lived in was not the palace of the doge, it was her families ancestral house. A high stone building painted a bright red and trimmed in white. It looked like all the other houses in the city, if not older. It was one of the oldest houses, but not as old as the First Twelve. Twelve families, who now numbered only at eight. When Soldano had been founded it had been occupied by twelve families, and over the years they had steadily grown smaller and smaller, or spread themselves so thin their names changed.

The gondola came to a stop beside the house.

Three men stood outside, in identical suits, with finely trimmed white beards and close cut hair.

Tori recognized them. They were what was left of her mothers staff. When she had left Soldano to marry the king of Imperia she had left enough money to take care of the place in her absence. It was meant to be given to one of her children, but Tori would live at the palace in Imperia, Gemma was in the East now, and Lucien was gone too. It was all rather sad. Tori stood up and stepped out of the boat.

"Thank you," she said sweetly, tipping the man well. It wasn't like she was short on money. If anything she was just paying the money back.

"Glad to help. Ma'am. Just give a ring if you need another ride," he gestured to the snail situated on the front of his gondola, and the number beneath. Tori nodded to him, and he pushed off, the condola floating cheerfully through the water.

Tori turned away from the water, towards the high house that seemed so much smaller than it was in her memories.

When she was small, Dolce would take her, and later Lucien, to visit Soldano every summer. It was important to her, that they know Soldano.

 _Her waters run through your veins, my love. We are all children of the sea._

Tori walked inside.

The staff, who her father still retained even after the house was all but abandoned, stood in lines on either side of the entry way. They were familiar faces, now aged with the years that had passed.

Luciano Orseolo, the steward, smiled warmly at her and dipped a half bow to the eldest princess.

"My lady, it is good to have you here again."

"It's good to be back, Luci," she forewent protocol and stepped forwards to embrace the man. He was practically her grandfather. Luci stiffened minutely before he patted her on the back.

"Yes. Do you want to rest for a while?"

"No, no. I'm fine. In your letter you said you had something for me from my mother. I'd like that, please."

"Of course. And, afterwards, the Doge and his council would like to see you as well. I believe you're familiar with most of them."

"Mmmm. Doge Ziani, Councilmen Vivarini, Bellini, and Titiano. Councilwomen Alvise and Tonini. And, the head of the artisans association, is it still Antonio Rizzo?"

"His daughter, now. Loicia. There's a new one too, the Foreign Relations Advisor. Arcielda Elena."

"I wasn't aware Soldano had one of those."

"All of our isles are usually so isolated, we didn't need them. We generally only traded amongst each other, and we are all connected by our Chains. But with you married now, to an outsider no less, we've been forced to open our borders to the rest of Totto land. I believe the other islands have similar things."

"I wasn't aware," Tori's brows furrowed. "Lucien normally handles things like this."

"I heard he's getting married, to some foreign princess. And your sister as well. All of your line is being sent off of Imperia."

"Father thinks that, in these turbulent times, we need to have as many allies as we can. We are not a major military power, whatever talents Gemma may have. We have had only each other for centuries now."

"Very pretty words, my lady," Luci said mildly. Which was funny, since she could remember a number of times in her youth when he called politicians silver spooned pissants when he thought Dolce wouldn't hear. He was very like his younger brother. Tori had no idea why Luci had respected her mother so much.

"This way."

They made their way through the big old house, it's walls lined with elegant portraits of her ancestors. All of them with sea dark hair, and dancing eyes.

Her mother was not the first dogaressa in their line. Her great grandmother had been Dogaressa as well through marriage, and traced further back another six generations came one of the first Doge to be elected, after the family had come from Imperia.

She was Victoria di Imperia, Victory of Imperia, but her mother was Dolce Regina Genova. The Regina were old, as old as the isles themselves. Older, maybe. Even they didn't have records before the Void Century.

The thought was enough to make her itch, but Tori reminded herself of Robin. Reminded herself of her own old life. The price of knowledge. She would not be another faust. Her chest tightened with the thought.

Luci lead her to her mother's old room.

It was exactly the way she remembered it. Thick curtains draped across the window, through which canals shone glittering in blue and busy. The four poster bed still had thick pillows that Tori wasn't even taller than they were long the last time she'd been here. There was a vanity, not that Dolce had ever needed much make up. Even without her 'blessing' Tori would have been lovely. Gemma and Lucien were, and Dolce was a beauty in all of her portraits and all of Tori's memories.

Luci took her to a small chest that sat just outside the walk in closet.

"She meant to give these to you on your wedding night," he admitted, pushing the chest towards her. "I suppose this will have to be soon enough."

Tori smiled softly at him and opened the box. Inside were soft silk dressed of all colors, the long drapes that could be changed to size even if she outgrew what her mother expected. There were thick books, a wooden jewelry box encrusted with pearl and shining glass to form a mural, and a long chain attached to a necklace that looked like a simple cylinder with intricate silver twists.

Tori recognized it for the poisoners tool that it was.

"She knew," Tori realized, lifting the necklace out. "She knew Father would break his word. That he wouldn't give us the chance to say 'no'."

Luci grimaced. "You Father is a… pragmatist."

"Luci. If I don't slap your brother for calling me a bitch to my face, I'm not going to strike you for speaking the truth," she said bluntly.

Luci actually smiled at that. "He's political. It's not a good thing. Your mother was smart. Dolce would do anything to ensure your happiness. Even if it meant getting rid of your dad. I can't believe she even kept him around. She was in love with another boy, you know?"

"She was?" Tori was startled.

"Oh yes. A sailor boy. You know your mother and the ocean."

Tori did. _We are all children of the sea._

"Why did she stay with my father then? If she loved another?"

"Obligation, I assume. And you. She was married with a child on the way, and the sea is nowhere to raise a little _princess_ ," he teased. Luci did something he hadn't done since she was a girl, and yanked on a stray strand of hair.

Tori swatted at him with a laugh.

It was as sad as it was flattering. Her mother loved her so much she would stay with a man she didn't love, let her true love flee to the deep blue waters without her. She would settle for being a queen, instead of someone who was truly beloved, for the sake of her unborn daughter.

Tori's heart fluttered with warmth and affection. She carefully put everything back in the chest to take home, although she suspected she wouldn't need the poison necklace any time soon.

* * *

The Soldano council of elders were legendary in Tori's mind.

They were stoic men who stood at her mothers funeral, and cold faced women who smiled with teeth that would as soon sink into a throat. They were all kind smiles and dangerous words and too many agendas and too much power.

Soldano was a strange type of democracy.

The elders controlled who was the Doge or the Dogaressa until they died. In Tori's life there had already been two. Her mother and the current one, who was nowhere to be found when she stepped into the council chambers. They smelled faintly of incense and expensive perfume, and the roasted meat someone had had for lunch. The table was, of all things, a triangle. Tori stood at the door, waiting.

Councilwoman Alvise, who looked like a grandmother if a grandmother had snake fangs hiding somewhere, smiled at her and stepped away from the table.

"Victoria, my dear. So good of you to join us."

Victoria nodded and smiled and let herself be paraded around the room and reintroduced to everyone, officially. They chattered and smiled at her, like sharks in the water. Waiting for the scent of blood.

Councilman Titiano complimented her hair, while the other two congratulated her on her wedding, and her legendary husband.

It was all hollow words but Tori flittered around and laughed at the right places and gave no sign at all that she knew they were after more than just pleasantries.

The Doge appeared at last.

He came into the room, a sweep of red and white robes and carefully twisted crown atop his head. Ziani was an old man, and most of his body was made up clothe to hide the near skeletal shape of the rest. His fingers were long and thin when they took Tori and she noted that his eyes, blue, were almost pitched black with his pupils blown wide.

She wondered if he even saw her as he went through the vague formalities of welcoming her to the chambers and offering her olive leaf tea.

Tori tried not to gag.

"That would be lovely, thank you."

He clapped twice and small boys descended from absolutely nowhere. Holes in the walls, probably, but she couldn't see them. They ran around, heating water pouring it into cups with the leaves through the strainers and as soon as they were done they were gone. Vanished.

Tori had never felt less safe.

Ziani sat her at his right side and took the first drink. The rest of them followed his exampled and the small talk started all over again. How the grandchildren were, the state of the repairs on the Trivera canals, the newest fashions between the women and who thought what of outsiders coming to visit. They stayed largely away from the topic of her husband. She had done her duty, they could not fault her for that. Not when she was Imperian.

"Oh, Victoria dear," Councilwoman Alvise said suddenly, as though just remembering something of importance. "We had something to ask you, didn't we?"

The men nodded, and Ziani, who was coming into sobriety, sat up straighter. "Yes. yes! Victory!"

"Ah?"

"You mother was the last Dogaressa. She had certain relics that were important to the state. Very important, not life or death but symbolically. You understand, don't you sweet girl?" Ziani patted her hand, making Tori's skin crawl.

"...I suppose. I don't know what you're talking about, I'm afraid."

"Symbols of the past, dear Victoria," Alvise smiled at her again, barely hiding her teeth behind her lips. "A black lock and a red key. She must have given them to you."

Tori stared.

"She did no. I've never seen either of those things. It sounds like a riddle, are you sure they're real?" she tilted her pretty, empty little head at them, almost knocking her hair out of place.

Councilman Vivarini did a poor job of pretending not to roll his eyes.

Alvise's smile grew strained. "Now Victoria. This is important. We need them."

"I've told you I've never seen either," which was true. She wasn't lying, and one of them must have seen her genuine confusion.

"What a disappointment." Titiano shook his head. But the conversation went back to meaningless and meaningful pleasantries. Things said between lines that Tori studiously didn't notice. Threads left out that she did not pick at.

She escaped as soon as she could, and no one stopped her. She was useless to whatever plan they had in their greedy little raccoon paws.

Gods, she missed Orso and his vicious bluntness. She missed Katakuri and his quiet honesty.

She never thought she would be so eager to go back to her husband's side, but here she was trying to figure out how soon she could go without it being suspicious.


	12. Onwards to Ohara

**This chapter came out kinda wonky, but it'll do.**

* * *

Tori was restless.

Everyone could see it, from her handmaids to her husband. Ever since she had returned from her trip to her mothers home she had drifted through the halls in the golden afternoon light and walked the fields of her worst enemy without her usual air ofd cheerful delight.

Victoria was a people person.

She always had been, even when the only thing she could focus on was her next paper, her next test score, her college major, her GPA, her STEM projects, she had always loved people.

She loved humanities and history. Even though it was science that her mind was hardwired for, even though it was mathematics that her parents pushed her to pursue, Tori had always loved people.

What she wanted to study was humanities. Anthropology, if it must be academic, she didn't care.

They had settled for anesthesiologist. Her parents and herself, but mostly her parents. Anything to show off how smart she was. How many grades she had skipped. How many awards she could win.

By the time she was eighteen she was trapped. Strangled by a blue ribbon around her neck, her leash so short she could barely speak to her neighbors without being pulled away to 'focus on her future'.

She hated it.

Tori was not a spiteful person. She didn't keep many grudges. But when she died, and she died so young in retrospect, so young and so oblivious to the world, missing out on so much of her life, she _hated_.

She hated her first grade teacher for telling her parents that she was a genius instead of sending her to remedial classes for being so bored in class that she didn't do her work. She hated whoever was in charge of her junior high that sent her right on to high school. She was only Twelve and suddenly she was a freshman.

She hated her parents for pushing her so far and so hard and so _much_ without ever letting her climb trees or play but decided to have her test her limits and climb ladders

She hated _herself_ for knowing too much, for showing up her peers whether she was trying to or not, for giving her parents an excuse to isolate her. For not standing up for herself. For not knowing people or making friends. She hated herself for dying alone.

All of this meant that now, when she was pretty but not smart, did it seem very unusual for her not to strike up a conversation with everyone she found in her path.

Tori could have seen it coming that Madelle might come for her, or Aelia, or Lapa, or any of her other handmaidens.

The one person she wasn't expecting to come find her that warm day in spring, was her husband.

He found her in the gardens that had begun to grow her own home islands plants. At some point when he had gone home with her, he had also procured seeds and clippings of their flowers and had them planted here.

Now, almost a year after, they were starting to bud in the golden sunlight.

Tori sat amongst them, staring at the sky and thinking about the formation of clouds. The pull of molecules, the weight of water, and the cold upper atmosphere. She thought of light reflection and refraction, and just how could sky islands exist? How were their clouds so thick to stand on but not so heavy that they fell? What stopped gravity from dragging them?

She had tried for so long so hard not to think too much. Not to try to unravel all of these mysteries, or consider devil fruit, or lost history. Or anything else like that.

She tried to just be pretty. She tried to just know people, without ever seeming like she knew much at all.

But now the itch was back.

The curiosity.

The want to know.

It was here and she was having trouble shoving all of it back into the box inside her chest while her mind whirled through things she had once known and tried to forget.

She was just reminding herself about cloud seeds when a shadow fell across her face and she found herself staring up at her husband.

"Katakuri," she said, surprised. She had neither heard nor felt him coming. Not that sensing was her specialty. "Hello," she sat up slowly, drawing her legs up under her. Her skirts wrinkles around her calves.

"What's wrong with you?"

Tori blinked at him once. Twice. Thrice.

"Oh. You're blunt." What else would she expect? This was Katakuri, not a courtier. He had no need to soften his words to her. Even if he was in a court and not in their home garden, she doubted he would mince his words.

In fact, if he was more prone to talking she was sure he would wind up in more fights with, well, everyone.

Katakuri's brows furrowed and he lowered himself to his knees in front of her. He still towered above her. Tori took the liberty of taking his hand in hers.

"Forgive me. I've been thinking."

"Thinking of what?" he asked suspiciously.

"Ah. Well, a lot of things. The sun and the moon and all of the stars. There's so much I don't know, and so many questions I've never asked."

"Then ask them," he said, like it was simple. Like it was easy.

 _What's behind your scarf?_ The part of her that was still bitter whispered. The part that feared the consequences of what would happen if she was more than just pretty again. But she didn't ask that. She didn't say such a spiteful thing, and besides.

She already knew the answer.

"There's some questions that aren't easy to ask. Or easy to find answers to," or _legal_ to find answers to. "Our library on the island is limited largely to past years accounts and agriculture and irrigation. And the ones on Imperia are similar. I've had my lessons there."

She did not mention that the only real things she had learned there was the island's personal history and her family's role in it, and to a smaller extent geography and tides. Everything else she had already known. Math, science, and so on, that hadn't changed across the dimensions. It didn't help that they didn't even know what DNA was here. And wouldn't for another twenty years, if she remembered correctly.

Katakuri stared at her for a long time, like he was contemplating not her, but the secrets of the universe.

Finally, he spoke.

"There is an island," he said, "Where they have thousands of years of accumulated knowledge. If you want to know something, that is the place to go. South of us, across the calm belt."

"In West Blue?" Tori cocked her head. They were in the New World, a million miles away from Paradise. They were sandwiched between the North and West Blue's.

It took her a minute to realize.

He was talking about-

"Ohara," his voice was a low rumble. "You could go to Ohara. You're restless. And snappish."

Tori frowned at him. "I am no such thing."

He just arched a brow at her until Tori felt herself start to flush. It was a jittery sort of anger. It was fear and old, bitter spite that reared its ugly head when it hadn't in twenty years.

If she gave in to herself, if she let herself start devouring books and knowledge, what would become of her then? Who would she be? What pedestals would she stand on, that even her handmaids and her friends, and her family could not climb to stand beside her on?

She didn't want to do that again, but her skin itched and her mind yearned. There was so much she didn't know. There were so many places she had never been. This world was strange and new and-

She knew everything, she told herself. She knew how water flowed and clouds formed. She knew how cells gathered together to make a person. She knew how lightning cracked through the skies to the seas. She didn't need to go to Ohara, there was nothing else she _needed_ to know.

But god, there was so much she _wanted_ to know.

And here was her husband, offering it to her.

On top of that, he did something only the Orseolo brothers ever really did to her.

He called her on her behavior. He saw her behavior.

Tori slowly reached up, and took both of his hands in hers. Her smile was soft, and affectionate. She wanted to grin like a loon, but she didn't know she could do that yet. She'd had a little too much training.

"I want to. I want to go to Ohara."

* * *

Tori was traveling more these days than she had ever travelled in her entire life. In either life.

The trip from Komugi to Ohara wasn't a straight shot across the Calm Belt. They had to sail all the way to Reverse Mountain, and then down to the West Blue. The Big Mom pirates didn't have seastone lining their ships, only the small ship that ferried her away from Komugi, sans her husband but including his young brother.

At twenty five he was one year older than Tori and still only half grown for a Charlotte, meaning he was actually a foot shorter than Tori was. It was strange to look down on anyone from Katakuri's family, but whenever they were together she found herself staring at the short cropped purple hair of Charlotte Cracker.

He was cute, this young. He didn't have his scar yet and he was all bright eyed and cheerful and utterly terrible at staying still. He also glued himself to Tori's side as soon as Katakuri asked him to keep an eye on her.

He only had a modest bounty yet, and that was mostly because he was Big Mom's son, so he could leave Paradise and not get a whole army of Marine's on his ass. Unlike Katakuri, who had already gone toe to toe with no less than three rear admirals.

When she thought about it, he could probably kill her with a napkin.

It was a good thing they got along.

Privately, Tori wondered if she wasn't already halfway in love with him. They were too alike.

Yet, he couldn't be more different from his younger brother.

"Hey," she caught him by his elbow when he went nearly skipping by. They both stayed steady when the boat lurched into the dock. "Calm down, FireCracker. We're here already. You can stretch your legs," she teased. He'd gone completely stir crazy somewhere around the second week on the ship, and it was on the backs of the fighters in the crew that his energy fell. He sharpened his skill and sword at their expense.

Now, he was about ready to leap over the side of the ship and start a fight with whoever he saw. Given that this was an island of scholars, he wouldn't find anyone who could pose a challenge.

"Behave," Tori warned him, and led the way off the boat.

They both towered across the other inhabitants of the island by at least three feet in all directions. The crew was more average sized and they ran around like bees securing their space at the docks. Tori didn't know how long she was going to be here. She didn't even know how long Ohara was going to be here, but she was going to take advantage of what time she had.

Cracker was supposed to watch over her, he'd been sent to do as much by his brother, but she doubted it would last long. She was going to be reading, and he would get bored of that soon enough.

Cracker reminded her, in some ways, of Gemma. He was a brilliant, brutal fighter and he knew it. But while Gemma was cunning and vicious he was cocky and perhaps a bit foolish. And neither of them could stay still for very long. The curse of always being 'able'.

Tori had to crane her neck up, up, up to see the tops of the Tree of Knowledge. It was amazing. It was ancient and towering and it enveloped the entire island in a cool shadow.

It was every bit as magnificent as Tori had ever dreamed, and then some.

"It's strange, don't you think?" she asked, drawing Cracker's attention to her. Her handmaidens had stayed on Komugi, dressed as her in turns, to distract anyone who might wish her harm.

"What is?" he asked, looking away from where he was eying one of the dock workers.

"The tree of knowledge. It's old and big. I've always thought of knowledge as new and ever growing, infinite possibilities."

Cracker squinted at her.

"... Mama sure picked a good person for my brother."

Tori was so startled she didn't even think of saying anything to him before he was off harassing a strong looking man down the block.

"A good person huh?" Tori started to smile. Maybe that was true. And maybe Mama had picked out a good person for her, too.

* * *

The hallways of the library of Ohara were vast and packed with so many books it almost made her head spin.

It was wonderful and just a little bit frightening.

A lot a bit frightening.

There was so much knowledge here, so much she could learn and find. It reminded her all too much of fairs and vicious competitions and night spent sitting in front of her parents while they snapped at her any time she didn't answer perfectly.

Even more so, because she knew all of this knowledge was about to disappear. It was going to vanish off the face of the earth, lost forever in the flames of a Buster Call.

It hadn't registered before. Tori had known, consciously, that there were a lot of books. She had known that a lot had been lost. But to see it? In person, with her own eyes?

It made her sick to her stomach. Alexandria burned, Carthage was razed, Yunchin was destroyed, Baghdad was sacked, and the Aztecs were utterly destroyed. So much had been lost from her old world, and now so much again was going to be lost from here. How long? How long until this tree was felled?

Tori's fingers itched. Her stomach churned. No, absolutely not.

Tori caught the arm of a passing librarian, marked by her name tag.

"Excuse me," she said politely, ignoring the fact that the woman didn't even reach her shoulder. "Do you have paper available for the public?"

The woman looked at her, surprised, and nodded.

"Ah, yes. There's paper available next to the almanacs."

Tori thanked her a left her to her work. She found the papers and pends, and grabbed the first almanac off the shelf.

She began.

It was slow going at first, until she got into the rhythm of it. No one seemed to notice what she was doing, or if they did they were too intimidated to remark on the fact that she was copying down each book she came across.

In tiny short hand, each stroke of her pen no thicker than even a quarter inch, she wrote down everything. All of it, page after page she copied every book she could get her hands on. She lost all track of time.

The spell of translation didn't break until a ruckus of whispers broke through the small reading room she had found herself in. It smelled like books and ink and dust.

She looked up, expecting the whispering to be about her, but it wasn't.

There was a tiny, tiny little girl standing in the doorway, a book as thick as her head in her hands. Her hair was short and straight, even darker than Tori's, and her eyes were wide and blue.

Tori wasn't the only person in the room. Most of the tables were full of people, and when the little girl started looking around those same tables were suddenly over flowing with books and papers, and there was no room for a child anywhere.

Tori very intentionally moved the books around. The too-small chair she sat in creaked, giving her away to the little girl. There was only one space left in the room, if she wanted it.

It took a few minutes before the soft thud of a book on the table across from her told Tori that she was no longer alone. Robins head popped up the other side a minute later.

"Can I sit here?" she asked, her voice quiet and soft. Tori's heart melted. She'd always had a soft spot for children.

"Of course you can sweetheart. There's plenty of room."

"Thank you," Robin smiled shyly at her. Tori returned it, and got back to her work. She finished the book she was working on and started another. She had gone through five before Robin's voice broke her concentration again.

"What are you doing?"

"Hmm?" Tori lifted her head. "I'm taking notes. I don't live here, and when I leave I still want to have access to some of this information." All of this information. At least as much as she could get her hands on.

Maybe it would have been better to find Clover or whatever his name was and tell him what was to come. To tell him to start evacuating the books, but honestly? Why would he listen to her? She was no one to him. Just a foreign princess and a pirates bride.

It was the first part of that that meant she could travel as she pleased.

"I don't know that language," Robin leaned forwards before she caught herself, flushing and drawing back. Tori pushed the paper over to her.

"It's short hand. A sort of code for writing things down faster. See? That line says ' _I destroyed Humbaba who lived in the Cedar Forest, I slew lions in the mountain passes! I grappled with the Bull that came down from heaven, and killed him_.' "

"That's a lot," Robin looked fascinated.

Tori smiled at her and pulled a chair beside her. "Would you like to learn?"

Robin's whole face lit up. "Yes! Please!"

She scrambled around the table and popped up at Tori's side, just a little sprite of curiosity and innocence that watched with rapt attention as Tori showed her what she was doing. It was a shorthand unique to her island, to her family in fact. They had records going back a thousand or more years that looked almost identical.

Tori realized quickly that if she was a genius, Robin was a super genius. She was just a child but she was already fluent in more languages that Tori had fingers to count them on and she learned everything Tori told her without needing anything repeated.

What a frightening child.

Tori did enlist her help. She had Robin translate the texts in languages other than japanese and english and in turn transcribe those for her with the promise of stories of her homeland as payment.

She felt like she was taking advantage of the child, but Robin didn't seem to mind. She was just happy someone was talking to her.

Tori wanted to scoop her into her arms and carry her right home to Komugi, sit her down and spoil her for the rest of her life. She didn't want this little girl to be chased all over by the government, tormented and betrayed for her entire life. She wanted to scoop her up and protect her at any cost.

It was because of Robin that Tori left the library that night to get dinner in time to see the sun burning into the horizon behind the Tree of Knowledge.

Cracked appeared with dinner for her, and enough left over for Robin to eat with them, even though he had no idea she was there.

"Did you clone yourself in there?" Cracker asked, squinting at the little girl when he caught sight of her. Tori was startled into laughing.

"Oh, yes. A mini-me," she teased, ruffling Robin's hair. The little girl stared up at them, stunned.

Cracker laughed harder than her and grabbed the little girl by the back of her shirt. He lifted her up when she squeaked and propped her on his shoulder while they walked back to the ship. Robin grabbed his hair, looking bewildered but not afraid.

"Where are we going?" she asked, looking around the town from her new vantage. The villagers were quickly scrambling out of their way. Tori didn't take it personally.

"Us? We're going to our ship to eat dinner. With you, now. But eventually we'll go back to Tottoland."

"Totto Land," Robin repeated, looking off at the ocean.

Tori smiled.

"It's where we live. Although I'm from Imperia originally. If you ever decide to travel, you should come visit me there. You'd be more than welcome."

"Really?" Robin looked at her with such heartbreaking hope.

"Yes, really," Tori smiled sweetly at her. "You're very smart, sweetheart, and I think you'd like it there."

Cracker dropped her on the deck of the ship, and the three of them descended into the cabins to eat in peace. Tori couldn't help keeping an eye on the window, searching the horizon for Navy ships.

In the morning she would go back and keep at her work, but for tonight she ate with Cracker and Robin and laughed at their silly antics. They were both so young and unburdened by the world. Tori wanted to save them, if only she had the strength.


	13. Crowns and Kings

They spent months on the island.

Tori all but lived in the library, she spent hours each day with Robin and the books, transcribing everything she could get her hands on. Each paper went into wax lined crates that would keep them safe from water on the return trip.

She had gotten so much.

Thousands of books, she barely remembered all of what was in them, were stacked away in her ship. She would take them home, guard them and hide them until it was safe enough to start copying them into real books again.

Each day she spent with Robin she grew more and more fond of the girl.

The first time Robin slipped up and used her devil fruit Tori very intentionally didn't flinch. She just took the book from her extra hands and moved on, leaving the little wide eyed girl to watch her with wonder. She had to explain, later that night, on the ship, that the New World was filled with devil fruits, and their devourers. Tori could name three off the top of her head that she knew personally, and Cracker's family had plenty of them.

The look on that little girl's face…

She started eating dinner with them, and before long she was on the ship more than she was in her own house. She had a million and a half questions about the Grand Line, and Totto Land and all of the other devil fruits that they knew. She asked Cracker about his island and his responsibilities, and about being a pirate.

Tori was seriously considering asking her to come along with them when they left when the message came from home.

In Flora's handwriting it arrived in the early morning light , on the wings of a seabird.

Tori sat that night with Robin and Cracker. Bright children, beautiful people.

She lay the letter on the table once it was cleared.

"My father is dead," she said. Quiet, but true.

Robin gasped, covering her mouth.

Cracker's seemingly eternal smile wilted and died.

Yet, it was Tori who didn't quite react. She didn't know how. This was her father and he was dead. The man who raised her, and Lucien, and Gemma. The man who held her hand when they cast her mother into the afterlife. The man who wept for his wife only when the rest of the country could not see.

The man who, one by one, sold his children off to the highest bidders. The man who implemented the sexist ideals of his homelands on his eldest daughter, but not his younger.

Tori didn't know how to feel. She had spent the last year, almost two years, unable to forgive for breaking her mothers promise. And now he was dead.

He was dead.

She was queen. Or would be soon.

"I'm so sorry," Robin said softly.

"Yeah. I am too," she nodded absently. "That means, that my time here is done," she said quietly. She watched Robin's face fall. Even leaving now, Tori would never be back in time for the funeral. She would come home to her father already gone, his throne barren.

"Oh…"

Tori reached across the table and took the girls small hands in her own. She couldn't imagine truly changing the future. She couldn't stop wars or change the tide, but this one little girl-

"Robin. I want you to come with me," she said softly. "Away from your aunt. You could see the Grand Line, you could see the New World. You could learn more than just what's in books, and you could be around people like you. You're no more a devil child than I am, sweetheart."

Tears started to well up in Robin's eyes.

"Do you want to come home with me, sweetheart?"

"Yes," she gasped out, "Yes, I do. I want to come with you."

Robins small hands squeezed hers, but there was something in her eyes. Tori knew that look.

"But?" she prompted, sadly.

"But, I can't. I'm waiting for my mom to come back."

"Oh honey..." Tori couldn't fault her for it. Not when she would do anything to speak to her own mother again.

"I'm sorry," Robin grasped at her hands. "I want to, but I can't! I need to wait for my mother."

"It's okay," Tori murmured. "It's okay, I promise. I understand. Just don't forget, my invitation to Imperia always stands, okay?"

Robin nodded with a watery smile.

She stayed with them that night, and long after she had fallen asleep Tori got on the shell-phone and called her husband.

She needed to talk to him. She needed to ask him a favor.

* * *

The Great Room was ancient. It was a relic from another time, left over from a civilization that was spoken of only in whispers. Even the true name had been lost to the sands of time. It had been maintained carefully since antiquity, but never upgraded. No electric lights, no indoor plumbing, nothing of the sort.

It was exactly as their ancestors had left it, the day that Tori walked in with her husband.

With a high ceilings that's paint had not faded with time it was just large enough to fit Katakuri inside without him smacking into anything. The rectangular pool that took up the center of the room was still and undisturbed, an inky black that betrayed nothing of what lay beneath the surface. At the head of the pond was a massive throne made of shining gold, the sun blazed on its back. Standing opposite of it was a throne of equal magnificents, with the moon shining in soft pearl light. For the god and the goddess who watched over their people, the sun and the moon whose names time had forgotten. Those seats remained empty, always, for none stood above the gods.

On both sides of the still pool were lined eight obsidian goblets in which fire burned. Every other cup held blue to red fire, always. Blue was the color for delegates from each island, Imperia, Soldano, Aosta and Pamence. Red was reserved for outsiders. The fire was the only light in the room, where windows of colored glass diffused sunlight until the only good it did was to show old depictions of the kings and queens of a golden age.

When she was young, Tori had spent hours in the room, staring up at the incandescent glass, the men and women trapped inside of them. Dressed in their finery, unsmiling. She wanted to know their names. Their places in this world. She wanted to know what they had done in their lives, how they lead their people, how they had lived within their gilded cages.

Now, sitting in front of a red fire with her husband hunched at her side, she wondered again.

The world had lost its memory of the time before, would they lose it again? When she died, would anyone remember who she was? Or would she, too, be no more than a stained glass window for her descendents to look upon and wonder.

To the right of her was the current Doge of Soldano, an ancient man with a sunken face that barely hid the fact that his eyes were blown huge once more. Ziani Ipato had been voted the Doge after Victoria's mother had died, all those years ago, and when he died in the coming winter a new leader would be elected for the island. That was how it had always been done.

Soldano voted their Doge or Dogaressa in for a life long term. Only death or abdication would end their reign. Pemence called their leader Viceroy and Vicereine, who were chosen by a small council of the five head clans of each island. They, too, served for life if they were not voted out or chose to give up power. Aosta also used the term Viceroy for their leader, but the difference lay in that the successor was chosen directly by the predecessor. Imperia alone passed the title of King or Queen from parent to child.

Ziani Ipato had brought no guest, and so the red goblet to his right burned for no one.

Directly across from Tori, who was close enough to the silver throne she could have shook hands with the goddess it was built for, sat Galla Tradonico, Viceroy of Pamence. The red fire beside him lit up the dark shadows of a youthful face. Pietro, his young ward, who couldn't quite hide the way he fidgeted with his fingers.

That was nothing compared to the deathly pale face of Pisana Capello. The Vicereine looked deathly, more ghost than girl in the cerulean light that danced across her ashen cheeks. Her eyes were wide, white all around and her hands were clenched into such tight fists Tori swore she could hear them creak. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, some had greatness thrust upon them.

Some fall ass backwards into greatness.

That, was Pisana.

She had been the Vicereine for one and half years, and Aosta was starting to fall apart. Hector Ruzzini had, it was said, decided that the next person to enter his room would be his successor when he lay on his deathbed. No one knew with any measure of certainty whether he recalled that he had summoned his favorite prostitute to see him one last time, if he wanted to spit on his bloodthirsty children one last time and put a whore before his own sons, or if he had forgotten and stuck to his guns.

All Tori knew was that Vitale and Nicolo had been after her head ever since. Called lawyers and councilmen to try and overturn the decision, saying that their father was out of his right mind at the time and one of them should rule instead. That Pisana was unfit to lead men anywhere but into her bed. Tori wouldn't be surprised if, after all that had failed, they had moved on to trying to poison the poor girl.

As it was she had brought along a stone faced advisor who Tori recognized as Girolamo Mocenigo, Hector's old friend, closest confidant, and former lover. A good choice. Girolamo loved his country and his Viceroy more than anything. He would honor his decision and keep as much peace as he could.

They did not have a representative from Corsica, which was largely populated by Greenmen who had no desire to leave their island, and cared little for anyone outside of their own. They would not come to see her crowned.

"I thank you all for coming here," Tori said at last. She tilted her chin up to look at Galla, who was easily a head taller than she was. The people of their islands were all larger than natural born humans, but still nothing compared to Big Mom's brood.

Galla nodded to her. Pietro tried for a watery smile. He had fostered at their home for some ten years before he returned to Galla and Pamence. He knew her father well.

"We are sorry for your loss," he intoned gravely.

A thick wave of rose, sage, and frankincense billowed gently with his breath. The incense burned in four corners, filling her lungs. She let out a breath, nodded once to Galla. She would speak to Pietro later, in private, where they could properly grieve.

For now, she only smiled at him.

"We look forward to your leadership," Pisana jumped in quickly. Girolamo glared hard at her and the girls teeth clicked together. Custom said that no one would speak of her rule until the coronation day.

Still, Victoria smiled at her. She couldn't imagine being thrust into so much power at once. A place where social convention was so strict, she had made many blunders already. Tori didn't mind. She understood.

"Thank you, Pisana. Let us pray for all our sakes that we may lead our islands into a good future," she recited the words like a hymn, her voice musical even in mourning.

"Agreed," Ziani nodded once. He held his knobby hands up as though cupping water only he could see. "The business of the coronation now. You will hold it on Mt. Pernases, now you must decide who will bear witness."

"No," Tori shook her head. Her father had taken up his crown on the flat top of that mountain, where the spring bubbled up from beneath the earth, hot enough to burn. Her grandmother had done the same, and her mother, and her fathers father, as far back as their records went.

"No?" Ziani turned his face towards her, as though trying squint at her with his dark eyes. "You must have witnesses or no one can prove you were properly coronated."

Tori carefully hid a smile. "I will have many witnesses. The whole country may bear my witness if they so wish, for I will not wear my crown upon the mountain first. I will be crowned on the Breach."

There was a beat of silence. Pisana looked at her advisor, searching for help. Galla cleared his throat politely.

"A very humorous gesture, my lady, but this is serious business," he said. Pietro was staring hard at her. He knew she didn't joke about things like this. He knew she was serious.

"It is not humorous at all, my lord," she said smoothly, "It is what I intend to do."

"You cannot go against tradition so blatantly, with such little respect for your ancestors!" Ziani was suitably scandalized. _Good._ She thought viciously.

"I can and I shall. The world is changing. Imperia must change as well, lest we be left behind. We will not attend the Reverie this coming year," she went on, "We will take our time mourning my father, and we will grow stronger with the trial his death had brought upon us, rest his soul."

"Rest his soul," the others chorused. Pietro crossed himself.

"You speak of strength yet you would throw your country into malcontent, going against the most ancient of rites?" Ziani demanded. His voice grew louder, echoing ominously off of the pristine marble walls. It was said that no lies could be told within the chamber. Tori had never tried to find out.

Tori folded her hands in her lap, soaking up the quiet mountain of solidarity that Katakuri presented. His eyes narrowed at Ziani.

"She will do as she pleases," he said blandly. Daring his to talk back again. How she loved him.

"You are an outsider! You have no knowledge of our history, of our honored past-"

"He is my husband," Tori's voice swept through, ice cold, "He is to be the King Consort of Imperia, Lord of Komugi. He speaks with the voice of our most noble house and he ceased being an outside the day we wed."

Silence fell oppressively around them.

Ziani made his disapproval clear with his sharp glower in their direction, but said no more on the matter.

"The coronation will be held on the Breach, within view of any citizen who may wish to see it. We have two months before the mourning period for my father is over. Preparations shall begin at once. You are, of course, all invited," she added. "The gala where we receive our bereaved fellows will still be held in Villa Procida..."

By the time the sun ceased lighting the depiction of a queen holding a bloody sword over her head almost everything was sorted out, from funding to trade to interim ambassadors while the real ones were recalled.

Tori stood smoothly and held out her hand for his husband, who took it without question or comment. Together, they exited the great room and walked into the crisp night air.

* * *

Tori stood in a moonwhite dress that burned in the light of the setting sun.

The Breach glistened, the churn of the water sparkling like the diamonds that dotted her sea-dark hair. Her dress was simple and plain, and she wore no make up save white paint across her lids and lips. The shores were lined with her people, a million eyes upon her.

Orso stood at her elbow, and Madelle at the opposite. At her side was her husband, who had agreed to wear white for this occasion himself and held his tritan in hand. A man and woman familiar with her virtues, to present her again to the Enchantress and the eldest priest.

They stood before her, the moon and the ocean while the sun died slowly on the horizon.

Tori let her gaze wander to the people come to see her. She was shattering tradition with this move. Men and women in white, mourning dresses formed a wall that looked like snow bordering the glimmering water. The Breach, where two long fingers of land came together with just enough space between them for a single ship to pass, was packed with spectators.

It was a shock to Tori that she saw movement off in the trees, flickers of green a shade off from the jungle leaves.

Greenmen come to watch a coronation was unheard of.

So was having a coronation where the consort was an outsider and they were presented to the entire population of the island.

Wind pulled at Tori's skirts and she took a breath, drawing strength from the quiet, firm presence of Katakuri. She could imagine her parents at her other side, her mother filled with a dutiful pride and her father with a stern certainty that this was for the best.

She opened her eyes when the priest spoke.

"Victoria di Imperia. Child of the Sea, daughter of Lysander de Imperia and Dolce Regina Genova. You are sworn to this island, and to her people by blood right and rearing. Do you deny this?"

"I do not," she said firmly, lifting her chin. She made steady eye contact with the man, in his fine robes that shine with silver spider silks.

"You are childless. Do you deny this?"

"I do not."

"You have a wed, do you deny this?"

Tori resisted the urge to role her eyes or point to her husband. Instead, she let out only the smallest huff of irritation.

"I do not."

"You are heiress and princess. You are blood of the sea and raised of the earth. Is it your intention to guard this land, which raised you from your infancy, no matter the personal cost?"

"It is," she made sure her voice carried to all to hear.

"And is it your intention to put forth the interests of the people over your own? To be fair and just?"

"It is."

"Is it your intention to put the land of Imperia over your own desires? "

"It is."

The priest turned to her husband. There were a dozen questions he was meant to ask, but Katakuri must have frightened the man more than Tori would have expected, for the priest bowed his head.

"Charlotte Katakuri di Imperia, Governer of Komugi. Is it your intention to support Victoria di Imperia as King Consort, for so long as you are able?"

He gave a single, rumbled. "It is."

"Please bow your head," the priest instructed.

The Enchantress came forth while Katakuri dropped his head low enough for her to bring a circlet of gold to rest in his mulberry hair.

" _You shall be King Consort."_

She intoned gravely. Her words fell from her lips and cracked against his brow before scattering in shards of black across his skin and sinking in. The power in her voice nearly made Tori tremble.

"Victoria. Please bow your head."

Tori did. She bowed so lowed her hair would have tumbled into the water if she hadn't had it pinned behind her head.

The gold and red crown that had once graced her mothers brow was settled into her dark curls.

" _You will be Queen."_

And so she was.

Tori rose, as did Katakuri, until they stood before her people in all their glory. Her heart beat like a humming bird in her heart. Above them the sky cracked and roared with red and yellow and green. Fireworks screamed into the sky. Tori took her husbands hand in hers and lifted them into the sky while a roar ripped through the crowds.

Madelle and Orso cleared them a path back to the mainland, off the thin peninsulas, and into town. They walked through the people, Tori smiling and grieving in turns, and Katakuri standing her loyal shadow, her beloved consort. He was frightening next to her but…

With the crown on his head and the queen on his arm, her people greeted him gladly and with warmth that she had not expected.

She didn't know how many people she spoke to, how many times she promised to do her best for their sakes before they finally arrived in the villa. It was their only escape, and it would only last a few minutes before the dignitaries made their way in and started trying to curry favor.

Tori held Katakuri's hand tightly in the brief quiet they had to themselves.

"I hope you know what you've gotten yourself into," she said, breathless. "This is a life long position."

"I know," he told her, his voice strangely soft. "I promised to be by your side for life when we were married. Don't you remember?"

Tori smiled at him.

"Oh, I remember. Your mother picked out that scaled scarf didn't she? That was so gaudy…"

"Are you insulting Mama?" Katakuri cocked a brow.

Tori paused before she realized he was teasing her, then broke into a grin that she hadn't felt on Imperia in years.

"Perhaps I am. What will you do about it?"

Katakuri squeezed her hand. There was something different in his eyes. Something she hadn't seen before. He was nervous. Nervous and indecisive. Why…?

Tori brought his hand to her lips. "Thank you, for staying with me when things get hard."

She must have made up his mind with that, for he reached for his face and grasped his scarf. His shield. His defense. Tori watched, her lips parted with shock, as he pulled it down and out of the way. Until it hung around his throat.

She knew, consciously. What he was hiding. His scars. But knowing and seeing were different things, as she kept relearning recently.

They were not pretty. The skin was pulled together by rough stitches and jagged when it had ripped when he was so young. It was silver closer to his ears the way old scars were and faded into red closer to the corners of his mouth, as if it reopened periodically. His lips were parted with jagged teeth that poked through like a bulldogs.

He was watching her. Waiting and tense.

Tori put her hand on his shoulder, grabbed his scarf with her other one, and dragged him down so she could brush her lips against his, feather light and gentle.

"My loving husband," she murmured, "Thank you."

She kissed him until they were broth breathless, and mess of sweetness and too much teeth and started giggles when he picked her up with the greatest of ease. They only had a few precious moments to themselves, and she wanted to remember them all like this.

* * *

 **UPDATED 6/21/2020**

 **I forgot to add this when I first posted this chapter, but this is the second to last chapter of Revel! It's been almost two years coming, but this is it y'all.**


	14. End Revel

**There's some vague nsfw in the first part of this chapter. It's not really explicit, it's just two dorks trying to bone.**

 **Now that that warning is out of the way, this is officially the last chapter of Revel!**

 **BUT! This is not the end of Tori or her family. They'll all be back in book two, Revelations.**

 **Thank you everyone for all of your kind words and support, it's really what kept me motivated to keep writing this story and I hope you guys will like the sequel as well.**

* * *

The first time Tori convinced Katakuri to lay with her was something she would never forget.

It took a lot of coaxing and promises and careful touches from the both of them. He was skittish still, no matter how many time she told him she thought he was lovely, no matter how many kisses she lay upon his skin.

She understood. He had never touched another woman, and they had been wed nearly three years before she had him on her bed, stripped bare for her soft hands and sweet lips to glide across his skin.

She was careful with him, and he even more so with her. It was a night they would never forget, if only because Tori had spent half of it breathless, her face red and tears in her eyes.

All because she tried to take the reigns, and straddle him, but she was so eager she overshot and ended up tumbling ass over end, off of her husband, off of the bed, and onto the floor where she stared up at his shocked face through her thighs dropped around her ears.

She couldn't help it.

She started laughing.

He picked her up off the floor, and she caught her breath and prepared to guide him inside her-

But made the mistake of looking him in the eye.

They stared at each other and Tori's shoulders started shaking. Katakuri put his hand over his mouth, muffling the gruff laughter that matched her helpless giggling. She clung to his chest, and tried to calm down, but after that every time they made eye contact she fell apart again.

The end of the night found her laid across his chest, still giggling like a loon but more than satisfied. She knew she would be bruised in the morning and Katakuri had deep scratched down his back, but they'd had fun and that was the important part.

When they woke in the morning Madelle was standing outside the door, with a letter in her hand. It wasn't from her sister, but it was about Gemma nonetheless.

Gemma, her younger sister, the youngest of all of them, was also the first to conceive.

Tori looked from note to Madelle and handed it back.

"Excuse me," she said brightly. "I'm feeling competitive."

She shut the door and went back to bed, with no intention of sleeping.

* * *

Three months afterwards found Tori and Katakuri dressing in their room for one of Big Mom's Tea Parties. This time it was Oven being sent to the altar, to secure another alliance with an up and coming big shot that Tori didn't even know the name of. Only that those particular pirates were making enough waves to warrant being welcomed into the fold.

Tori still wasn't sure why she had been brought in. Her island was, still, nothing particularly special to Big Mom, and Katakuri's ignorance led her to believe that no one off the islands knew the Enchantress existed.

Those were questions for another day.

As it was Tori was searching her mother's old chest, the one she had been given when she visited Soldano last. At the very bottom was the jewelry box.

Inside there was a string of small pearls. They were pink, almost red in their vibrance and Tori tugged them out to wear around her throat.

Only, the clasp caught on the velvet lining of the box.

Tori's brows furrowed.

She gave a careful tug. She didn't want to break the necklace. Or the box. But what could it be caught on?

Tori followed the clasp until she wiggled her nail in the small gap it had created. She pulled until there was a strange click and necklace popped free. More than that though the lining lifted away to reveal a small hollow. And, inside of it, a red key.

Tori lifted it carefully out of its hiding space, turning it over and over in her hands. It was heavy and smooth. She couldn't figure out what it was made of. Some kind of metal, but it was tougher than anything else she's seen. It had no give at all.

 _A black lock and a red key._

And here she had the red key. What were they? Where was a lock, and why did Ziani want it so badly? If they found out about it, would they come after her? Would they threaten Tori, her handmaids, her husband?

Katakuri could demolish all of them but Tori…

She touched her stomach, where it was only just started to curve under the weight of a new life.

She couldn't endanger her child. Not until she had more information. Their islands history was one that filled with bloodshed, murdered queens and poisoned kings, all from people vying for power. She was not fool. Tori understood exactly how dangerous the world was.

Tori put the key back in place, pressed the lining back until it clicked, and donned her pearl necklace.

It hung like a circlet of blood around her neck.

* * *

"We'll need to figure out what kind of name we should give them," Tori mused, staring out at the sea. She rested her head on Katakuri's chest, listening to even pull of his breaths, unobstructed for once. They stood on their balcony in the dead of night, where no others would both they or see his face. Tori still thought he was lovely.

"What do you mean, 'what kind of name'?" He asked, stroking slowly through her long, sea dark hair.

"Well. I suppose it's not so complicated outside of my isles. But I am of Imperia and Soldano. I'm a 'Di Imperia', of Imperia, because I'm the princess. People without titles have their first name and family name, and in Soldano is there's enough old families and things are so complicated that there's three names. The _Tria Nomina_."

"Three names," he repeated dubiously. "Like the 'D'?"

"Maybe," Tori shrugged. "I couldn't say for certain. I'm not a historian."

"No, you're a polymath."

"And _you_ are a flatterer."

"If I can be. Would you give your daughter three names?"

"I might give your son three names," Tori elbowed him lightly. "We don't know what it's going to be. Anyways. There the _praenomen_ , the _nomen_ , and the _cognomen_. The _praenomen_ is the personal name, to differentiate between members in a family. Katakuri, Lola, Cracker. All of you Charlotte's, but all of you different."

"So it's a fancy word for a first name," he concluded.

"Mhmm. Exactly. The _nomen_ is the last name. You all come from the same ancestor. You all came from your mother. Charlotte. And the _cognomen_ , that's a way of distinguishing branches in a family. My mother was Dolce Regina Genova, but her cousin was Chiara Regina Violante. Both from the Regina family, but from different branches."

Katakuri squinted at her, his ever curved mouth twitching.

"I think," he said slowly, picking her up easily by her hips. "That you fancy people enjoy making things needlessly complicated."

"It's all about power and inheritance. Our power comes from our bloodlines. Without being able to trace those back directly to the people who owned the land, who ruled the country, we lose our influence," she admitted. He wasn't wrong.

"Your power is your own," Katakuri corrected. "You push back the tide itself, if you put your mind to it. You are brave enough to speak for my sister. You are foolish enough to speak against my mother."

"Flatterer," she leaned up to kiss him, feather soft. "You think too highly of me."

"Perhaps." He turned and caught her mouth in a slow kiss. "You will never stop surprising me, will you?"

Tori smile at him in the dark. "I'll certainly do my best not to. Good surprises only."

"I'll hold you to that," Katakuri threatened.

Tori grinned against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

This life wasn't perfect, but she had found her happiness. She had her crown and country. She had her husband and her handmaids. Very soon, she would have her first child.

Tori took Katakuri's hands in hers and pulled him close, letting the crash of waves be their music as she dragged him into a messy, wild dance.

All she could do was revel in what she had.

 **End Revel.**


End file.
